Dreaming of Butterflies
by Stretch
Summary: When Bella is hit by Tyler's van and falls into a coma, the lines between reality and fantasy begin to blur. When you can't tell fact from fiction, how do you know which love is real? AU
1. Chapter 1

"_Once upon a time, I, Chuang Chou, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was Chou. Soon I awaked, and there I was, veritably myself again. __Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man."_

**-Zhuangzi** (Philosopher)

Bella never cared for Journey. But as she lay there with her eyes closed she couldn't say she was surprised to hear Steve Perry singing about a small town girl. Forks had pretty limited radio reception, and the morning DJ at WMXM seemed to have a thing for the band - this wasn't the first time they'd been her unceremonious wake up call. With her eyes still closed she groped blindly for her bedside alarm clock, hoping to silence their screeching and maybe catch a few more minutes sleep.

And that's when Bella realized that something was wrong.

A sharp pain lanced through her wrist when she tried to move her arm. She jerked the offending limb again and almost cried out as a wave of fire washed up her forearm. She opened her eyes only to be greeted with absolute darkness...and an empty bed.

"Edward?" she whispered, not wanting to wake Charlie. Her voice sounded strange, raspy and dry. Her throat burned from the friction of that one word. And still, there was no Edward to be found. Bella tried to remember if he was hunting. That really was the only time she ever used the alarm clock anymore. But her brain was…fuzzy. She couldn't make the pieces come together right. No date, no time, no sense of when.

Giving up on the alarm clock, Bella tried to approximate where her lamp would be. But again, as soon as she reached for her nightstand that crippling pain shot through her arm. Tears sprang into the corners of her eyes. She cradled her arm to her chest, feeling for cuts or swelling. Maybe she had rolled on it in her sleep?

Her fingers felt normal, and they all seemed to bend well enough. But as Bella explored further she bumped into something trailing out of the back of her hand. Something hard and round and tube-like. She recognized the shape instantly. It was an IV.

Bella Swan was in the hospital.

Again.

It was all becoming clear now that her eyes were adjusting to the intense darkness. She could faintly make out the rails on the bed, the series of sleeping machines humming faintly on the wall above her, and a barely lit door that was in the wrong place for it to be the one in her own bedroom. Still, solving that mystery only left her with a new one: what had happened to her this time?

Even more importantly: why wasn't Edward here with her? Her mind drifted back to the days following her encounter with James. Edward had refused to leave her bedside, feigning sleep and forgoing food for days just to watch over her, just to be with her. Had she been unconscious so long this time that he'd been forced to leave her side to hunt? Did she get hurt while he was away?

Where was he?

Bella felt that twinge of panic start build inside her. Her heart was pounding frantically enough to make her hospital robe twitch with each frantic beat. She scrambled with her free hand, searching for a call button, a light switch, anything that could provide her with more answers. Above her one of the machines noted her rising pulse and cackled to life, triggering an alarm that didn't do much to help calm Bella's nerves.

Footsteps thundered outside her door, which was thrown open to the blinding industrial lighting of a hospital hallway. Two shadows ran through, revealed moments later to be two nurses when they had the fortitude to throw on the lights. One rushed frantically to her side, where she slapped off the radio playing softly on the bedside table, while the other sprinted to a phone hanging on the wall.

"Page Dr. Collins," she ordered into the receiver. "Swan, in 214? She's awake." She paused. "Yes, and find her father." Pause. "No, just use the radio. Channel 5. It'll be faster."

The other nurse shined an even brighter flash light into Bella's spot-blinded eyes with one hand, shutting off the blaring machine with the other. "Bella, my name is Linda. Do you know where you are?" she demanded. They were both concentrated chaos, all prodding hands and curt voices. It was sensory overload compared to the quiet dark from a moment ago. Bella had to blink a few times just to get her brain to process it all.

"Bella," the unnamed nurse now chirped, her cold fingers prodding her wrist for a pulse. "Do you know where you are?" She enunciated each individual word, as if Bella was having problems understand the English language.

"In the hospital?" Bella finally ventured. She attempted to roll her eyes, but the motion only made her stomach churn.

"Shhh." Linda now had a stethoscope pressed to Bella's chest, and apparently answering her question was interfering with her listening. Panic was beginning to give way to irritation, and only the dryness of her throat was preventing Bella from saying something snide.

Fortunately they were interrupted as another figure crossed the threshold into the room. Doctor Collins, as clearly identified by her nametag, was a far from imposing figure. She couldn't have been an inch over five feet tall, but her presence instantly silenced the fluttering nurses, both of whom retreated from her bedside.

"I'm--"

"Dr. Collins," Bella interrupted harshly. But the doctor only responded with an enthusiastic smile that made it impossible for Bella to resent her.

"Exactly. Can you tell me how you're feeling?" She placed her own stethoscope against Bella's chest and continued where Linda had left off.

"Confused," Bella admitted, taking a deep breath. "Where's my Dad? Where's my fiancé? What happened to me?"

"Your family is on their way," she said reassuringly, clearly sidestepping the question.

"What--"

"Follow my finger with your eyes, Bella," Dr. Collins interrupted. "The sooner we get through this the sooner we can talk."

Bella reluctantly followed the doctor's well manicured nail. "I don't--"

"Bella!" A familiar voice proclaimed. "Oh thank God, my baby!" Bella looked up in time to see Renee plow through the nursing staff. Dr. Collins had the sense to get out of the way before she could suffer the same fate. Unobtrusively she ushered the two nurses out of the room, and made herself inconspicuous against the far wall. Renee crashed down onto the edge of the bed and swept Bella into her arms. She crushed her daughter to her chest with no regard for the tubes or wires that tangled them both.

Bella buried her face into the warmth of her mother's neck, reveling in the fact that at least something was making sense. She didn't know why her mother was here, but she was and she loved her and that's what mothers did. The logic of it all calmed her slightly. The sound of steel toes and sharp heels against the tile reached her ears, and a moment later her hands were pried off Renee's shoulders, and cradled between a larger, rougher set.

Charlie.

Her family, together in one room. Back when she was ten this was her wildest dream. Now she was old enough to know it was too good to be true, and that something unthinkable must have happened to cause it. "Mom," she whispered, trying to loosen the vice grip Renee had on her shoulders. "Mom, what are you doing here? What happened?"

Renee reluctantly drew back, but refused to surrender contact with her daughter. With shaking fingers she brushed Bella's cheeks, pushed back her hair, as if checking to make sure she was real. Bella noticed a few gray hairs amongst the brown framing her mother's face. Her eyes were ringed by dark circles, as if she hadn't been asleep for days. She looked…worn down, weary. Bella wanted to comfort her, reassure her that it was all going to be okay, but she didn't know how to, she didn't know that it would be.

She looked up at her Dad in desperation, wanting to find answers in his eyes, reassurances that she didn't usually need from him, from anyone. But Charlie just continued to hover behind them both, still clutching Bella's hand, but with none of his usual awkwardness. Even worse, Bella watched a big, beady tear trickle down the side of his nose.

"I…" Renee hesitated, as though she didn't have the words…or she did but was afraid to use them. She, too, looked over her shoulder at Charlie for help.

"Bells," Charlie murmured softly, his cheeks still damp. The tears looked painfully awkward on his usually stoic face. Charlie wasn't a talker, let alone a crier. That was more terrifying that anything Bella could've imagined. "Honey…" He hesitated and looked back Renee, pleading with his eyes.

"There was an accident at school, Baby," Renee said softly. Again, she smoothed back Bella's wild hair with shaking fingers. Her skin felt cool to the touch, clammy.

"What kind of accident?" Bella demanded, her mind traveling to dark places. The scent of damp stone suddenly flooded her nostrils, a haunting sense memory. Visions of red eyes and faces like rice paper. The Volturi, had they finally made good on their promise? Had she damned everyone she cared about, everyone she'd ever touched?

Charlie sighed deeply, but the anguish on his face was quickly replaced by something close to rage. "You were in a car accident at school, Bells. You remember Tyler Crowley?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "There was a storm. He hit a patch of black ice, lost control, pinned you up against the frame of your truck…"

"Oh baby!" Renee threw her arms around Bella's neck once more. "There was…so much head trauma…I just can't believe you finally came back to us…" A stead trail of warm tears began to course down the back of her neck as Renee's composure finally dissolved into heaving sobs.

Bella clung to her mother with equal voracity. She couldn't breathe, it was as if her lungs had just given up. She tried desperately to inflate them again, but her muscles absolutely refused to listen to her. It wasn't _possible_! Edward had saved her, had exposed himself by doing so. That was when she knew there was something so vastly and beautifully different about him. That was when...she almost couldn't bear to think it…

That was when she had realized she was falling in love with him.

Deep in the recesses of her mind she felt the touch of his cool skin against the fire of her own, and she lost herself in the gold pools of his eyes. With painful desperation, Bella took in enough air to whisper one question: "When?"

Renee broke their embrace, wiping her nose on the back of her hand like a child. She exchanged another nervous look with her ex-husband. Charlie placed his hand on Bella's shoulder and whispered in a relieved tone, "two months ago, Bells. You've...you've been comatose since then."

The last thing Bella remembered seeing was her mother's panicked face as the blackness closed in on her again, and she willingly surrendered herself into the blessed nothingness.

* * *

**A/N:** This is my first multi-chaptered piece in a long time, so your feedback would be greatly apprecaited, as would your patience with my update schedule. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

When Edward left the first time, a hole developed in Bella's chest. Like a cancer, it grew with the weight of her despair. It was her body's physical reaction to her emotional loss – Bella's entire being was grieving.

But this…this time it was entirely different. After all, how can you mourn for something you never truly had, that was never yours to loose?

In death there was usually comfort, taken from the knowledge that the person lost had lived a full life, taken from the memories shared, the memories retained. Bella had no memories, just cruel parodies, carved into damaged gray matter. Film strips and movies she could watch, but had never actually participated in.

There weren't words to express that kind of deception, that kind of loss.

That kind of pain.

It was beyond describing, beyond actually _feeling. _Like the universe had turned in on itself, and been swallowed up by the blackest of holes, the change was only noticeable in the absence of self, the absence of existence. Not its discontinuation, but its failure to be altogether.

Bella Swan, the girl she had thought she was, hadn't just ceased to be. She'd never been real at all.

She didn't know who she was anymore.

* * *

She was never alone. Awake, asleep, someone was always present at her bedside. It was a devotion from her parents she'd never wanted nor received before, and some bitter part of her felt that it paled in comparison to the doting she'd once been subjected to by another.

Even worse, now that she was no longer dead to the world, Bella no longer trusted herself. Sleep seemed to overtake her so frequently now – a natural reaction, the doctor assured her – and when she slept, she spoke.

Rather, when she slept, she screamed.

The first time it happened, Renee shook her awake, terrified that Bella was in pain. And she was, but not the kind of pain you could put words to. In her sleep-addled haze, Bella pleaded with her mother to remember the bronze-haired boy she'd brought to visit her in Jacksonville, thinking that if only she could convince her to remember than she might wake up from this, the real dream. That if Renee could remember too, the spell might then be broken, and the handsome prince could return.

But Renee only smoothed back the hair from her sweaty forehead, and tried to control her own ragged breathing. "It was only a dream, sweetie. Phil and I live in Phoenix at the old house, remember? The blue one?" Then she squeezed her daughter's hand, and ran off in pursuit of a nurse who could tell her what must be physically ailing her daughter.

In her own twisted way, Renee was actually right.

Her life…had only been a dream.

And Bella lay awake in bed, suffocating under the weight of the realization that now she was awake for the nightmare.

* * *

It was strange. Her family, her few visitors, even the staff seemed to have adapted to the idea of Bella being in a coma so well that the moment she closed her eyes, they assumed she could no longer hear them.

They were wrong.

Bella discovered more by lying still and pretending to sleep than either her parents or the doctors had openly disclosed to her.

She learned that for two months she'd been here Renee had barely left her side. She only took sporadic bathroom breaks, which ironically was when Bella had decided to wake up, and had to be dragged away to the motel down the street to shower and change clothes. And even then, she'd only go if Bella was safely in the hands of Charlie or another trusted friend.

She also learned that Forks only needed its Sheriff when he was otherwise occupied. The usually quiet town had called Charlie away from her bedside to deal with a break in and robbery at the convenience store by the highway, two acts of vandalism related to Spring Fling dance revelries, and the usual two or three hikers who managed to get lost for more than 48 hours at a time.

Bella learned that Phil was pursuing a contract with Pittsburg, that Charlie's friend Harry Clearwater had been her neighbor for a week after he suffered a heart attack caused by high blood pressure, and that one of the nurses named Bonnie was having an affair with a married surgical resident.

But most importantly, Bella learned that despite their brave faces and confident fronts, neither of her parents seemed to think she was okay.

"It doesn't make any sense, Doctor," Charlie admitted one afternoon, while Bella appeared to be napping. "I don't know what to do. She's stopped talking about it now but…the minute she falls asleep she starts to yell. She keeps calling for people who aren't there…this Edward…and I don't know what to do anymore." She'd never heard her father sound so exasperated, so defeated.

"Disorientation is perfectly normal under these circumstances," Dr. Collins assured him in a confident, professional tone. "Just because--"

"But for two weeks?" Renee interrupted.

Dr. Collins cleared her throat, a subtle cue that Bella had learned indicated her mounting irritation. "Just because Bella is awake doesn't mean that her body has fully adjusted yet. Comatose experiences can be very traumatic. It's going to take time, and patience for her to make a--"

"But she will recover, won't she?" Renee interrupted again. "I mean, right now she's like a little kid – she can't tell the difference between what's fake and what's real. But you said her last X-Rays didn't indicate anything abnormal after the surgery…so she should be fine then?"

"Physically, she's making a full recovery," Dr. Collins said, the irritation now evident in her tone. She didn't appreciate having her diagnoses called into question. "The inter-cranial swelling has gone down, and the bone appears to be setting well. But psychologically these things can take--"

"Well then maybe there's something she's not telling us. Maybe something happened before the accident. Did you know this boy? His family?" Renee demanded, cutting off the doctor yet again.

"Town this size?" Charlie murmured. "Sure Renee, not many people I don't know. Good kid, good family. His father was a doctor here, but they moved about a week before Bella's accident. I honestly had no idea his son and Bella had been so close. She never talked about her school friends really, other than Newton and the Weber girl. She never brought anyone home either."

"Carlisle, the boy's father, said he'd been looking to get into teaching for a while," Collins interjected, eager to add her two cents to the conversation. "Talked about it all the time, actually. One of his old colleagues at UCLA medical school went on emergency bed rest in her second trimester, and Carlisle jumped at the chance to fill in for her. Gave his notice first week of April and moved down there right away. Pretty big loss for the hospital, we were scrambling to find a replacement."

"But I still don't understand, Bella talks like she lost years with this boy--"

"And in my dreams I can fly, Ms. Dwyer, but that doesn't make it true," Dr. Collins interrupted sharply, turning the tables on Renee. "Bella just needs time to let both her body _and_ mind heal." Renee must have looked like she was ready to protest again, because Dr. Collins quickly added, "But if you're that concerned I can schedule a consultation with the hospital psychologist, just to verify that everything's progressing normally, okay?"

"Thank you, Doctor…"

Bella stopping listening then, too scared, too defeated, too empty to want to hear anything else. She just shut down, and waited until a wave of real sleep washed over her and took her away into that blessed nothingness.

* * *

That night, Bella dreamed she could fly.

* * *

Charlie appeared in the morning, relieving Renee and sending her to get some rest. He didn't mention the conversation from the previous evening – not his concerns, nor the impending visit from the hospital shrink.

He had aged years in a matter of months, Bella noticed, as he sat down at her bedside. She'd never seen the prominent lines beside his eyes before. She didn't know how someone who so infrequently laughed could get laugh lines, but her Dad had managed that as well. Still, his demeanor seemed much improved. He never let on how worried he was about his daughter's state of mind.

And Bella never let on that she knew he was.

A weak smile was all she could muster when he brightly asked how she was feeling.

"Fine." A single word, a single syllable. And still it felt as if it was too much for Bella's tongue to handle.

The dark look reappeared to haunt Charlie's features. It wasn't that Bella wasn't getting any better, it's that she wasn't even trying anymore, and he knew it.

"Look, Bells, we need to talk--" he started to say, but stopped when Bonnie burst through the door.

"Morning!" she announced with all the enthusiasm of someone who just received a quickie in the supply closet. Bella and Charlie scowled in unison, but Charlie conceded and stepped back to give the nurse room to change Bella's IV. He was sulking against the wall when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket.

"Chief," Bonnie chided with more brevity than Bella appreciated in someone pulling a needle out of the back of her hand. "You know the rules – no phones."

"I know, I know, I know," he muttered, checking the caller ID. "I'm just gonna step out and grab this, Bells. I'll be right back." Bella waved him off with her free hand, eager to delay the conversation she knew was coming. Charlie was going to want answers, and Bella didn't think she was ready to handle the look of disappointment on his face when he got them.

After a while, Bonnie slid the needle back into her vein. Bella didn't even flinch – she'd built a wall around herself since the conversation between her parents and Dr. Collins. It was the final nail in the coffin she'd willingly laid in. She was crazy, she was alone, and once she spoke to the psychologist, she'd be that way forever. The will to fight the inevitable had been drained from her. Now Bella was content to sit behind her invisible walls, numb to the world.

At least, she would've been content to do so, had a sound, tinged with familiarity, not reached her ears just then. It tore through her self imposed exile like a nuclear blast. Bella bolted upright in bed.

"Stop squirming Bella," Bonnie ordered, trying to restrain the girl with one hand, and take her blood pressure with the other. "I can't get a good reading if you're moving all over the place."

But the voice, there it was again.

"Old man, I swear if you run over my foot one more time you're hitchhiking home…" A chorus of laughter followed.

Bella knew that voice, something deep in the recesses of her mind screamed for it. More voices joined in: Charlie, and someone else she recognized. But none of it mattered. It was all trivial, useless detail save for that _one_. That one that ignited all the memories in her head that she tried to bury, tried to convince herself weren't real. Motor oil and grass and _heat._

Her world lately had been consumed by so much nothing. In her head, in her past, in this room.

She needed something solid. Something real. Something to hold her here, to tell her that it hadn't all been in her mind, that it hadn't all been a dream.

"Jacob." She murmured his name under her breath, feeling the weight of it on her tongue. She heard footsteps stop outside the door, a murmur of voices and muffled laughter, but they didn't come inside. "Jake," she said louder.

"Bella, what are you going about?" Bonnie demanded to know, her patience waning Bella ignored her, willing the visitors to step through her door, because any second now Jacob would come crashing in, all smiles and warmth. He'd pull her to his chest and crush the air out of her lungs and tell her that she wasn't crazy. He'd make it all better, he'd put her back together. Just like he always did.

"Jacob." No response. Well, if they weren't going to come inside, then Bella would just go to them. She started to peel the tape off the back of her IV, which was still hanging on the bed post. She'd only been allowed to walk to the bathroom and back since waking up, and then only with the help of her mom or a nurse, but the door was only a few feet away. She could make it

She was sure of it.

Bella had the needle halfway out of her wrist when Bonnie turned around. "Bella, what the hell are you doing?" She grabbed both the girl's hands and attempted to stop her from getting the IV all the way out. But Bonnie wasn't much bigger than Bella, and Bella was feeling particularly compelled, so she resisted, trying to bring her hands back together.

That was it for Bonnie, whose post-coital pleasantness had all but disappeared. She let go one of Bella's hands just long enough to hit the intercom on the wall and demand that someone page Dr. Collins.

Bella seized the opportunity for escape and wrenched the last of the needle from her arm, releasing a faint trickle of blood that oozed down the back of her hand. In another lifetime that would've been enough to set the room spinning, but Bella had bigger things to worry about now. She slipped from Bonnie grip and scooted off the edge of the bed.

But her feet shook beneath her as they hit the cold tile, and the door suddenly seemed so much farther away then before. She made it two steps before Bonnie regrouped and latched onto her forearm.

"Help!" the nurse shouted, trying desperately to keep Bella from further injuring herself while avoiding a lawsuit.

Bella tried to jerk herself free, but it didn't matter because the door flew open and Jacob ran in, and…

…and he looked like the average fifteen year old boy. No rippling muscles, no tightly controlled face, no monster buried beneath his lanky frame. He was just a surprised kid, holding what appeared to be a bunch of flowers, and gaping at her strangely.

"Um…Bella?"

That was the final straw. The room began to spin as Bella lost her tenuous grip on reality. With nothing left to hold on to, to hope for, there was nothing to keep her from spiraling off into oblivion.

"You're not him…he, I…you're not…where's Jake?" Her heart was beating desperately, trying to lunge out of her chest. Bella's vision slipped and spun, she was hearing everything too fast, too loud. Her knees went out from under her, and she felt someone catch her a moment before she collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Arms, voices, hands pulled her back into the bed, pinned down her wrists.

"Bella?" Charlie was at her side now. Someone shoved him away. A new pain bit into the crook of her arm. A sedative?

The world began to get fuzzy. "Jake…"

A set of fingers intertwined with her own, soft and cool and completely, utterly human. "I'm right here."

Yelling, there was so much yelling. Charlie was yelling at the doctor. The nurse was yelling at Charlie. And all the while the world was becoming darker and smaller and darker and so much smaller.

"Please stay…" a voice pleaded. Her own? "I don't…don't leave me just…stay. Please stay?"

Bella felt a hand squeeze hers in response before it all went dark.


	3. Chapter 3

Black.

No, dark.

Bella came-to slowly. No bolting awake from the throws of a nightmare. No screaming, no pain, no gasping for air as her lungs flooded with rolling seawater.

No dreams from a failed existence.

Instead the medicated sleep hovered over her brain like a dense fog, fuzzy and soft, hiding the unpleasant details of reality. She rolled over and stretched, a tangled mess in the starchy hospital sheets. Her foot kicked against something soft.

The fog began to recede and Bella blinked, willing her eyes to acclimate to the darkness. And when they did, she blinked even more, just to be certain that what she was seeing was real.

Beside the end of her bed was a chair, containing a body which appeared to be connected to the head that was currently sleeping, face down, against the corner of her mattress. Jacob.

He had stayed.

Bella froze, then slowly pulled her knees up to her chest while she tried to wrap her sleep-addled brain around the situation. He had stayed when…by all accounts he didn't even know her.

It was sad, but the more Bella thought about it the more she realized it was true. Jacob…the one…in her head, he had been her best friend, the keeper of her darkest secrets. But this kid before her, snoring softly at the edge of her bed…he had never walked across First Beach with her, whispering ghost stories. He'd never taught her how to ride a motorcycle, or light a charcoal grill, or how to properly check the tire pressure on her truck.

He'd never grabbed her in the woods and kissed her so hard that her soul almost burned.

He was, by all intents and purposes, a stranger to her. If it was possible, that revelation made Bella feel even more horrifically alone than she already did. As soon as she thought she'd gotten something back, it was ripped away from her again. Reflexively she wrapped her arms around her chest, trying in vain to close a hole that didn't exist, and never had.

Frozen like that, tied in a human knot, Bella watched the boy sleeping with trepidation. He snored softly into the mattress pad, the slight rise and fall of his back the only indication that he was still living, that he wasn't just some twisted figure produced by her demented imagination or damaged brain.

Once…and she knew that was the wrong word, because it wasn't a time that actually ever was, but once Bella had longed reverently to see the boy who had been her best friend again. He'd disappeared, hidden by responsibilities and a war not his own, and she'd mourned that loss. The boy had smiled brightly and been quick with a laugh, faithful and understanding and true.

And he had loved her, first with the honest innocence of a child, then with the passion of a man he wasn't prepared to be. She had loved him. Too. Too little, too late, but she had.

Bella was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to touch the figure before her, just to reassure herself that he was real. She unwound her limbs and leaned over, poking him lightly in one shoulder. When he didn't respond, Bella poked him again, harder.

Jake snorted into the sheets, then bolted upright. "I didn't do it!" he exclaimed frantically.

Bella flew backwards in surprise, flattening herself against her headboard while her heart attempted to beat its way out past her ribs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she repeated in a harsh whisper. "I didn't mean to--" she started to say, but hesitated because really, what else had she intended to do by prodding him in the shoulder other than wake him up. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh." Jake smoothed back his tousled hair, blinking frantically. "Oh, no worries. It's just for a second there I was back in Ms. Michon's fourth grade class and I didn't have any pants on and, well…you know." He gave a comedic shudder.

Bella untangled her IV cord and her limbs as her heart rate slowed. "Yeah, elementary school was pretty scarring."

She watched as he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, as if he could physically rub the sleep out of them. "Um…so what are you doing here?" she asked, before realizing how trite the question sounded.

Jake seemed unfazed. "You asked me to stay."

"Do you always do what strange, raving coma girls ask you to do?"

"Only when they say 'please'," he replied with a cheeky grin, and Bella felt smile growing on her own lips. His personality had always been infectious – at least that hadn't seemed to change.

"So you only baby-sit the _polite_ strange, raving coma girls?" Bella asked lightly, the banter spilling so easily from between her lips. She hadn't spoken this much to anyone in days, it seemed. "That must limit your numbers some."

Jake stood and stretched, his back popping several times in succession. He must have been hunched over her bed for a while. "Actually, can I let you in on a little secret?" he asked, dragging his chair up to the head of her bed, and sitting down by her side. "You're actually my first." He grimaced and rolled his eyes skyward in mock-embarrassment. "Please don't tell the guys I'm a strange, raving coma girl virgin – I was just waiting for the right time, you know?"

For the first time in the two months since going under, and despite her best attempts not to, Bella laughed. It was strange sound, stranger still in that it sounded odd coming from her. But real or imaginary or whatever the hell he was, this had always been Jacob's affect on her: to draw out her best when she was at her worst.

"I promise your secret is safe with me," she assured him, only to catch herself thinking _if only you knew the other secrets I used to keep for you…_ The thought dragged her back down into the pit Bella had made her home, and the smile vanished from her face and the silence started to stretch as her she drifted back to a place and a time and a boy and a truck and an _almost_.

"Um, are you okay?" Jake asked hesitantly, drawing Bella from her silent reprieve. "I mean, I didn't even think…should I go get a nurse or something?" He reached for the call button resting on her nightstand.

"No!" Bella exclaimed, pulling herself back into reality. She caught his wrist in her IV'd hand. "No, please no nurses," she said again, much more quietly, watching the door to see if her shout had roused any attention. But it seemed the hospital was silent and sleeping around them.

"Okay, okay," Jake surrendered the button and grinned. "No nurses. What, not interested in being forcibly sedated again?"

"Yeah, that wasn't exactly fun and…did you bring me flowers?" Bella's eyes drifted up from the infamous call button to where a bundle of sunflowers was sitting in a large, red Solo cup vase.

"No, well sort of," he stuttered. "Your dad's friend, Harry Clearwater, well his wife Sue has a greenhouse so she grows stuff all year round." Bella could've sworn he looked a little flustered explaining this all to her. "Anyways she said it would be nice to take some and so they're mostly from her and ...yeah, can I have my hand back?"

It wasn't until he mentioned it that Bella realized she still had his wrist in a vice grip. She let him go, blushing furiously. "Oh, I'm sorry. I…this is…so awkward." She buried her face in her hands in a burst of sudden frustration.

Awkward wasn't the right word for the situation. There was no right word for it. Her friendship with Jake had always been…easy. It fit like a well worn glove – comfortable and safe and well worn. But to fall into it now, and him with no idea of a past she seemed to think they'd had, well it just felt wrong.

Hollow.

An empty gesture.

And she didn't know if she could start over again, had she already been too tainted by what had happened to her ever re-create that friendship here? Even worse, was it wrong for her to try? Would it be fake, trying to conform the link between two people into something unnatural because she wanted it to be and --

"Hey, hey, hey, it's not that bad. Don't you see?" Jacob interrupted her thoughts, a moment later prying her hands away from her face. He grinned reassuringly. "Something is only awkward when one of the parties involved doesn't recognize that it's awkward. In declaring the situation awkward, we're basically negating its inherent awkwardness. Get it?"

"I…no. I have no idea what you just said," Bella admitted, but he was smiling and his hands were warm against hers and it felt _so much_ like it was supposed to that she couldn't help but return his smile. "But I'll take your word for it. I'm --"

"Bella Swan, and I'm Jacob Black, and you once let my sister cut your pigtails off cause I kept pulling them," he surrendered his grip on her hands before she was ready to let go. "See, childhood history also helps negate awkward situations. So are we cool now?"

Bella could only nod.

"Good, cause I can't have you freaking out right now. I have to ninja my way out to the payphone in the front without Nurse Ratchet catching me and it's going to take all my focus to pull this off." He stood up and gave an exaggerated karate chop with his hand.

Bella felt that familiar panic start to build again. "Wait, you're leaving?"

She grabbed at his hand. Jake caught it and gave it a squeeze. "The only way we could convince your dad to go home was if I promised to call him the minute you woke up, which seemed like an easy promise at the time, until I realized there isn't a phone in here."

The nurses had taken it out days earlier, when Bella had tried place a collect call to Los Angeles.

Jake tried to pull his hand away, but Bella held it fast. "Wait a second, where is my dad?"

He laughed, and wrenched his limb out of Bella's worried grip. "Never let it be said that a man in a wheelchair can't hold his own. I believe my old man dragged Charlie out of here so as to avoid any…physical confrontations between him and the staff," he shuddered. "Charlie was not pleased with the way they treated you. And I don't want to risk having that ire turned on me."

"Sure, sure," Bella muttered out of habit, her hands falling limply into her lap in defeat.

"But I'll come back for a visit," Jake added brightly. "I mean, if you want me to…"

"Absolutely," she agreed, a little too eagerly. "I mean, until you find another strange, raving coma girl, that is."

* * *

He was gone.

And she was alone. Again.

The room felt bigger, somehow. More empty. The shadows that played from between the blinds seemed more menacing. Because for a second, Bella had tasted what she craved, she had...regained that sense of balance that comes from remembering your past, and having it intersect your future. Real, fake, or some combination of the two, it was more than she'd had to cling two in the past two weeks. And now it was gone.

But for a second, a split-second even, it was as though she'd been pedaling a bike up the hill and the chain kept slipping. Only when Jake walked through the door it caught for the first time, catching a spoke, propelling her somewhere instead of merely standing still, unable to move.

It wasn't perfect, she wasn't fixed. But she didn't feel quite as broken anymore either. As with everything else, Bella was stuck somewhere in between.

Which is why she was so surprised she nearly leapt out of her skin when, at three in the morning her door banged open, only to be slammed shut a second later by a figure leaning, huffing and puffing, against the wall.

Bella watched the space beneath the doors as two pairs of silhouetted shoes paused, then continued running down the hall.

"God damn!" Jake chuckled, letting his head slam back against the wall. "For hospital security guards, those boys sure are fast."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Bella demanded, panting just as hard despite not having done any running. She reached up and wrenched the plug of her heart monitor from the wall, tired of dealing with her continually spiking blood pressure.

"Avoiding arrest for trespassing after visiting hours," he shot back sarcastically. "What's it look like?"

"I got that part," she hissed back, but even she couldn't fight the effects of his infectious grin. "I meant what are you doing _here_? What happened to calling for a ride, all that?"

"Ah, well 'tis a tale of sorrow and woe I'm afraid, m'lady." He threw back his hood and freed his pony tail as he sauntered over to the bed. He seemed to crinkle and clank as he walked, and the room took on a funny odor that Bella couldn't seem to place, but her stomach gurgled in recognition.

"Do I smell French fries?"

Jake collapsed into his chair with laugh. "Can't get anything past you." From the front pocket of his hoodie he pulled a rolled up McDonald's bag. "See, I went to find the payphone. But I'm a guy and we…well, we're easily distracted sometimes. So as I'm standing there, trying to read my calling card in the dark, I can't help but notice that the Micky Dee's across the street is now open 24/7."

He unrolled the bag and began unloading its contents onto the tray by Bella's bed. Ketchup packets, napkins, and grease soaked burgers warped in yellow paper. "So I'm standing there when I just can't help but realize that I'm starving. So I'm thinking I'll run on over, grab a burger then I can eat it while I wait for my ride. But as I'm standing there in line I can't help be remember that you were sedated through dinner, so I get to thinking that you must be as hungry as me. And now what kind of gentleman would I be if I ate while you starved? So I grabbed some chow, used my awesome ninja skills to sneak back into the hospital, and now – we feast!"

He thrust a quarter pounder with cheese into her hands, overturned the empty bag, and dumped a single box of fries on top of it. "I only had a five," he said, looking kind of embarrassed. "So we'll have to share. But I did have enough change to grab these from the vending machine before security spotted me." He pulled two cans of Sprite from his side pockets and put them on the tray as well.

Bella was speechless, left staring and gaping at the burger in her hand. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, doing battle with her empty stomach – she didn't know whether to eat or cry from the kindness of it all. And so she sat there and started at her burger.

"Bella…" Jake said cautiously. She turned to look at him, the same goofy expression on her face. "It works better if you eat it, you know?"

"I…" she stuttered, before finally saying the first thing that came to mind. "I'll pay you back."

Jake's hand flew to his mouth as he laughed and tried to keep a fry from spilling out of his gaping maw. "Would you stop worrying about it and just eat? You can pay me back when you get out of here."

Bella finally gave in to her hunger and peeled back the paper, relishing the taste of overcooked meat and gooey cheese. She usually wasn't one for fast food, but after two weeks of gray, bland hospital slop, and as many months on a liquid diet, she'd have licked heavily salted cardboard just for the MSG. She thought carefully as she chewed.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Jake tossed back the final bite of his burger, having inhaled it faster than Bella was willing. "I'm sorry. Would you prefer I be mean to you?"

"No I…" Bella hesitated, taking another bite when the silence seemed to stretch too long. Part of her didn't want to know, didn't want to break the rapport that seemed so blessedly familiar. But the other part of her had to be sure that it was real, that it wasn't just something she was projecting onto him. "I mean, seriously? All this? For strange, raving coma girl? Why?"

Jake chuckled, but at least had the decency to look at her with mild disbelief. But when Bella continued to leer at him with that penetrating stare, he realized he wasn't going to get off without answering the question. "Well," he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "I don't know, I guess you just looked like you needed a friend is all. And I wasn't busy or anything…"

"So you just decided to, what, become that friend?" It sounded a little harsh. Then again, maybe it was just the pickle she'd bit down on. Bella picked the uneaten part of it off of her bun and shuddered as she laid it on the corner of her wrapper.

"Well…yeah?" Jake sipped at his soda, then cocked a stray eyebrow at her over the top of his can. "That going to be a problem for you?"

"No."

"Good," and the serious looked returned to his face. "And since we're friends now, I wanted to ask you a question. I mean, if it's too personal you can tell me to go to hell or something but, I'm just curious about how you knew--"

"Can you keep a secret?" Bella interrupted him. It was a stupid question – she already knew he could. But she needed to cut him off. He was going to ask the question that she was finally prepared to answer, but he needed to understand first.

And Bella desperately needed someone, anyone, to listen who might be capable of understanding, without the worrying condemnation of a parent, or the outright disbelief of someone reliant on science. Jacob was right, Bella did need a friend. And if he was willing to be that person, he at least deserved to know what he was getting himself into.

"Um, sure. As long as it's not that you're planning to off yourself or something."

"No," Bella said. "Nothing like that. So you won't tell Charlie?"

Jake crossed his heart with a fry before eating it. "I swear."

Bella took a deep breath and tried to find the words. The proper way to tell him that soda straight from the can reminded her of a garage she'd never been to, and that when she closed her eyes at night she slept in the cold arms of a man who saved her life, but who always vanished before she could wake up to say goodbye. "I…when I…when that truck hit me…"

Bella was floundering, drowning under the weight of her own words. Jake took the now-empty wrapper out of her hands before she tore it in half, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze in passing. "Hey, hey, hey, you don't have to talk about this if you don't want to, Bella."

"No, I _do_ want to, I just don't know how…have you ever had a dream that was so real, when you woke up you thought you were still in it?"

Jake shrugged. "Sure, every time I dream about the fourth grade. I have to wake up and make sure I'm not naked. Why?"

Bella looked down at her lap. "When I was unconscious all those months? I had a dream like that," she finally choked out. With that past, the words seemed to come easier now. "I dreamed about a boy at school who was…special. I dreamed he stopped the truck from hitting me."

"What, like he had superpowers or something?"

"Sort of," Bella said with trepidation, not wanting to test the limits of her newfound friendship by setting Jacob off. "He was a cold one," she admitted softly, looking up to gauge Jake's reaction.

He started at her blankly and gave his head a little shake.

"You know, a cold one," Bella repeated again, more insistently. "A vampire, you've never heard of them?"

"Well yeah, I've heard of vampires before, just never by that stupid name."

"But you…" Bella hesitated. She had to remind herself that the boy sitting before he wasn't the same boy from inside her head. Maybe things were…_different_ here, maybe the legends weren't the same. "It doesn't matter." But some sinking part of her felt the absence of the legend was somehow significant.

"So this kid, this vampire," Jake ventured, trying to get her back on track. He seemed intrigued now – at least that hadn't changed. Jacob had always been one to appreciate a good story. "He just stopped the truck with his bare hands?"

"Yeah he…he…" she tried to find the words to explain all Edward had been to her, all he'd meant to her. She wasn't certain there were enough words in the English language to describe it. "He saved me because he loved me." It was too simple, the words too mundane, but she didn't have the strength right now to give proper voice to her feelings. She looked Jake in the eye, hoping he would understand. "For two years of my life we were together and he loved me."

Before her, Jake's sympathetic gaze turned to one of confusion. "Wait, but you were only out for two m--"

"I know."

"But in your dream you were there for two y--"

"Yes.

He sat back in his chair, flabbergasted. "Whoa, sounds like one hell of a dream. So, aside from the fact that there were car-stopping vampires in it, there was no other indication it was all just a dream? I mean, could everyone fly or did they at least all walk around naked or something weird like that?"

"No," she sighed, carving tiny half-moons into the flesh of her palm with her nails. "I ate, I slept, I loved…and then I lost it all and woke up here…" The tears were flowing freely now, but Bella didn't make any move to stop them. She half expected Jake to realize how crazy this all was and run from the room, but instead he just offered her a gently used napkin to wipe her face with.

"They tell me it's not possible, and the rational part of my brain knows that it isn't, but it didn't feel like a dream to me, and it still doesn't." The words poured out of her wildly now, just like her tears. "It's not fading, it's not disappearing. It feels like I lost half of my life and I can't get it back because everyone else just thinks I'm crazy! You want to know how I recognized you when you walked in the room? You were going to ask that earlier?"

"Yeah," Jake nodded. "But you don't have to--"

"You were in my dream too, Jake. You were as real and tangible as you are before me this instant."

Bella waited for that him to process that information, but instead Jake just broke out into one of his trademark grins. "That is so weirdly cool!" he exclaimed softly. "Like an out of body experience or something. Did I look the same? Did I have superpowers too?"

Bella snorted into her napkin, a dark chuckle – that would be the kind of question he'd ask. Jake had always been exceptionally good at weird. He'd also been exceptionally good at comforting her too. "Yeah, you had superpowers too."

"Awesome. Could I fly? Did I shoot lasers out of my fingers or something?"

"No you could actually turn into this super powered wolf – it was pretty impressive, if I do say so myself," she explained. "You lost your pants pretty frequently doing it though."

He pouted weakly and clutched at his jeans. "Figures. Pants, or lack thereof, have always been my greatest weakness."

"Don't complain too much," Bella chided him gently, her emotions more controlled now it seemed. "You were very powerful. Saved my butt more than a few times. We were…" Again, she struggled to find a word. But she'd never been able to label what they were in that time either. Something more than friends, something less than lovers – an irreconcilable difference. "We were best friends, you and I. You were there for me when nobody else was."

Jake threw his hands up in exasperation. "Well see, now that's just not fair. You already know what to expect from this whole 'friendship' thing. Cheater." But he smiled to take the sting out of the words. "I guess we're just destined to be friends. You should really stop fighting it."

"Apparently, but…" The appointment with the shrink loomed heavy in her mind, along with her growing belief that she really did belong in a place where she'd be allowed to languish with the memory or Edward forever, since the idea of losing him again was just too painful to contemplate. "I have a feeling I won't be able to be a very good friend to you. I'm supposed to have a psych evaluation tomorrow."

"Bella, you suffered a traumatic head injury – don't you think that sort of thing is pretty standard?" But Jake had picked up on the panic in her voice.

"Charlie doesn't think I can tell the difference between fantasy and reality anymore….and he's right," she muttered. "I'm in love with a man who doesn't really exist in my life…and I don't think I want to get better." The napkin was little more than shreds now, but just used the remnants to dab at the fresh tears that had started flowing again.

"You have to," Jake said, his voice resolute, determined. "You have to get better, Bella. You can't stay locked up in here forever."

"I've never been very good at lying. And as soon as he starts asking questions, he's going to know I'm not right…"

"It's not lying it's just…" he looked for the correct word, the right spin to put on the situation. "Presenting selective information. You tell the man what he wants to hear. Yeah, you had a dream. Yeah, you were really disoriented for a few days. But it's all starting to come back together now and you're eager to get out of here and get on with your life. Done."

"Why do you care so much?" Bella suddenly demanded, the words sound cold and judgmental, bitter. "Why do you care what happens to me?"

"Because Charlie needs you," Jacob answered a little too quickly. "You're all he talked about, from the moment he knew you were coming. He bought that truck off me weeks in advance, he dragged Sue Clearwater through all these department stores to buy girlie stuff for your room and the house, and I honestly don't think he's slept for more than an hour at a time since you landed yourself in here. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty or anything but…people need you Bella," he said firmly. "Your family needs you to at least try."

A look of strange contemplation settled over his features, and it seemed that now Jake was the one lost inside his own head. Lines furrowed in his forehead for a second before he reached out and snaked the last fry off the makeshift plate. "Besides," he said with a grin that didn't reach his eyes as he popped it in his mouth. "You owe me lunch."

* * *

Bella couldn't remember closing her eyes. She remembered talking about schools, and parents. She remembered picking Chuck Norris over Jackie Chan when asked who she'd want on her side in a fight against a horde of zombies. She remembered hearing a story about how Rachel and Rebecca once crazy-glued Jake's head inside a bucket when he was six.

And she remembered watching the light growing ever brighter in the window behind them.

But she didn't remember falling asleep, so when she came to hours later in the middle of the afternoon, and the room was empty, she couldn't shake the déjà vu-like feeling of dread that rose in her chest as she briefly wondered if the entire evening was just another twisted dream.

But there were flowers on her nightstand, and a soda can peeking out of the waste basket, and when she stretched to shake the sleep from her limbs her hand brushed against something rough tucked underneath her pillow. She pulled out a scrap of paper, ripped from the corner of a McDonald's bag, folded over twice.

_I'll see you when you get out,_

_-J_

It was both juvenile and sweet, and Bella felt a smile cross her lips just like the night before as she read it again and again. Sure, several of her briefly known classmates had sent cards or flowers, and according to Renee a young girl named Angela once delivered a batch of the best homemade butterscotch cookies she'd ever tasted. But none of those tokens had half the meaning of that little note, scribbled on the remnants of a grease-stained fast food bag.

Bella still had it clutched between her fingers when the door to her room opened sharply. Charlie's jacket was lying in its usual place, tossed over the back of the chair in the far corner, so she readily expected it to be him. "Hey Dad," she murmured without looking up.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Swan," an unfamiliar voice answered. She glanced up immediately to see an older gentleman she didn't recognize standing in the doorway, clutching a box clipboard in one hand, and a manila envelope overflowing with papers, which Bella quickly recognized as her medical records, in the other. "May I come in?"

Bella crumpled the note into a ball inside her fist and shoved it beneath her sheets, all traces of the happiness it had given her moments earlier now rapidly being replaced by dread. Reluctantly she nodded. What other choice did she have? Not like she could tell him to get the hell out.

He smiled what appeared to be a well practiced smile, judging from the contour of the lines that smiled along with it. He sported a salt n' pepper beard, closely trimmed, and thick brown glasses that made him look like a friendly uncle, or grandfather. Completely harmless.

And to anyone else, he probably was.

"I'm Dr. Adair," he said by way of introduction. He hung Charlie's jacket on the bathroom door handle, then pulled the chair to her bedside, landing in exactly the same spot Jake had occupied only hours earlier. "I'm--"

"A shrink," Bella interrupted, her voice high and squeaky. She desperately wanted to sound intimidating, like someone with an attitude, someone who lied all the time without a second thought. Instead her voice wavered like a California fault line, and she hid the fact that her hands were now both trembling beneath the paper-y hospital sheets.

"A psychologist, yes," Adair said, taking a seat. "Dr. Collins asked me to set up a consultation with you, before you're discharged."

"I know," Bella interjected sharply. "I've got good ears." She felt Jake's note growing damp against her palm as she clutched at it tightly, like it were a talisman that could ward off what she knew was coming.

"Ah, well good," the doctor seemed unfazed by her tone. He clicked open a pen and held it poised above the yellow legal pad on his clipboard. "I wanted to ask you a couple questions before we really get started. Your father told me you've been having some pretty upsetting dreams lately. Can you tell me what they're about?"

Bella felt all the moisture evaporate from her mouth. She remembered a time when fear this overpowering would've produced a voice in her head, strong and smooth as silk, to love her and tell her what to do. A voice, inside a dream, inside her head…and all she wanted at that very moment was to hear it again.

Maybe she really did need to be locked up.

However, Jake's note was weighed heavy in her trembling hand, and his words weighed heavy in her mind. "I--"

But even as she opened her mouth, Bella didn't know what she was going to say.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N (Edited):** Thank you to everyone who nominated this story in the Indie Twific Awards. I just found out that DoB is nominated in three different categories: Best Alternate Universe WIP, Best non ExB Story Line WIP, and Most Original Story Line WIP. The first round of voting runs from July 8th through the 12th, so if you like this piece don't forget to swing by the site and vote for it!

* * *

"I--"

"It's only for a few months Bella," Charlie admonished gently, more amused that annoyed it seemed.

"But I'm fine," Bella continued to protest. "And there are half a dozen medical professionals who agree with me. Otherwise, I wouldn't be sitting here." She slapped at the side of the passenger seat in Charlie's cruiser to emphasize her point. "Besides, I wasn't even the one driving. Why should I be punished?"

"You're not being punished. It's just a precaution and as a state official I'm required to enforce the law, even against my own daughter."

"Sure, hide behind the badge…" Bella clutched her duffel bag closer to her chest, and tried not to sulk. Today was supposed to be a good day, _the _good day. Discharge, release, freedom. But her mood had soured slightly when the doctor signing off on her release refused to do so until she surrendered her driver's license to him. She'd only had her purse back for five minutes before she was yanking things out of it.

"Sorry," Dr. Pritcher, her neurologist, had said with a rueful smile. "Washington has tough laws on head injuries. You had a mild seizure during surgery. Means you have to be seizure free another six months before you can have this bad boy back. But don't worry, August will get here soon enough." He waved the card beneath her nose in a taunting fashion, but Bella bit her tongue and didn't say anything further until she was out of the wheelchair and safely in Charlie's car.

She knew it wasn't his fault, but her frustrations had been building for the last week and a half, and Charlie just happened to be the closest target when the straw broke the camel's back. Not that he was complaining – it was the most Bella had said to him since waking up. Even as she sighed and pouted beside him, he looked as though he was fighting the urge to laugh. After all this time, all those nights of worrying and pacing and praying, his baby was finally coming home. Bella could've probably gotten away with murder on his watch.

She just couldn't drive.

Glaring out the window, Bella watched the trees and undergrowth and miles and miles of green whip past. Despite being irritated and distracted, she couldn't fight the intense feeling of déjà vu that overtook her as Charlie turned onto their street. Duffel bag perched on her lap, all she could think about was getting off a plane under the same overcast sky, burdened by a similar disillusionment. If only she'd known then how much worse it would get…

They drove the last half mile in that same, comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the police radio under the dash. Renee and Phil and Italian take-out were waiting in the driveway when they finally pulled up in front of the house. Though she'd seen her just hours earlier, Renee still bounded up to the cruiser before Charlie could even put it in park, pulling the door open and her daughter out into her arms.

Bella tried to focus on her mother, but the sight of her rusted, red-orange truck had caught her eye. Sitting in front of the garage that Charlie rarely used, a streak of foreign, blue paint was clearly visible. She hugged Phil and her mother but all she could feel when they touched her were the icy arms of a stranger as he pulled her from harm's way. She replied half-heartedly to their barrage of questions and small talk, but all she could hear in response was the squeal of tires and a voice, screaming her name.

Despite being out in the open, it was suddenly hard to breathe.

"Mom," Bella interjected, unsure of what the conversation was actually about. "I…can I just have a second to freshen up and stuff?" she asked hesitantly. The truck, her closed bedroom window, the old familiar scenes from her melodrama nightmare…she knew it would be tough, but Bella never expected it to feel this bad.

"Of course, honey," Renee planted a kiss lightly on her forehead, scooping up their bags of food. We'll go get dinner ready. You just go get settled and everything, okay?"

Bella nodded grimly and walked the narrow path up the driveway and to her front door. With trembling fingers, she lightly brushed against the dent in the side of her truck as she passed. There was no imprint of his fingers, like she'd been expecting. Just the faint blue streaks of paint from where the van had impacted her vehicle, seconds before crushing her body in a similar fashion.

* * *

Pink and purple sheets were twisted into a knot. Drawers were half-opened, their contents disheveled and unfolded and spilling out onto the floor. A hairbrush not her own balanced on the edge of her desk precariously. It looked as though a hurricane had ripped through her room, but Bella knew it was just the aftermath of her mother, staying there at night before she'd moved to the motel, then bringing clothes and other necessities to the hospital for her. Renee had always been many things, but organized wasn't one of them. Still, if the roles were reversed and it had been Renee in the hospital, Bella couldn't imagine herself taking the time to be much neater…

She opened the closet door, which was already hanging ajar, and placed her bag inside and away from potentially prying eyes. She didn't want her mom to help her unpack later on. She didn't want to try and explain…

Her feet wandered the familiar floorboards, remembering how each one creaked beneath her weight. Fingers touched the sheets with a misplaced reverence. The last person to sleep beneath them had been her mother, not a vampire from another time, another place. The last night Bella had spent curled up here, she'd been alone, left with the weight of her dreams. Carefully she sat on the edge of the mattress, feeling the texture of the sheets against her legs, and imagining they were there as a barrier to keep her from getting too cold pressed in the marble crook of his arms.

"_Your father told me you've been having some pretty upsetting dreams lately. Can you tell me what they're about?"_

Sure, Bella thought, pulling the sheets up around herself. They're about love, they're about completeness. They're about knowing both, only to lose it all and find yourself empty and forgotten and alone and lost in the dark. They're about finding your soul mate sitting next to you, only to wake up and realize it was all just a cosmic misunderstanding.

But, of course, that wasn't what Bella had said when the shrink had asked.

"_I--," she stuttered. "They're…about the accident."_

"_But Dr. Collins says you don't remember what happened."_

A chill swept through Bella, despite the fact that the rising May humidity outside was making the air in her tiny room thick and heavy. She tried to push the memories of the interview from her mind, but they cycled through like demonic reels of tape she was forced to watch. She didn't remember the accident…not the way anyone else did.

"_I don't," Bella hesitated, struggling to come up with explanation that didn't involve being in love with a fictional vampire. "That's the problem – each night it happens a new way. I've been crushed practically to death each time I close my eyes. I guess the imagination really is a powerful tool…" she finished weakly._

_The doctor just scribbled onto his pad._

But Bella knew the real nightmare was just beginning. She fell backwards onto the mattress, sinking into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. Already it felt wrong, empty lying there like that. She closed her eyes, tried to will herself to feel tired and safe in an empty bed…but all she felt was a pull behind her ribs, an echo that told her she would never close her eyes without feeling the loss.

"_And this Edward person, the one your mother says you keep talking about, who is he exactly?_

She felt the tears leak from beneath her tightly closed eyelids. Tiny rivers pouring silently down her cheeks, staining the pink sheets rouge.

"_He's…" There were no words to describe him, the outline of himself that he'd carved in her heart and flesh and bones. And even if there were words enough, there were none in that category that made her sound healthy, normal. Sane._

_Edward burned in her mind like a beacon, but this time his face was overshadowed by that of her Renee. Then Charlie. Phil. Mike. Angela. Jacob._

_He was right. Jake, that is. There were other people that cared for her, even if they didn't know it yet.. Other people that needed her to be well, even if she wasn't ready to be. She couldn't throw her life away without hurting theirs as well. She couldn't be that selfish._

"_He is," she started to say softly, then corrected herself. "He was a boy from school. My lab partner, actually. And when I was under all those months, I had a dream about him too, that's all…"_

Bella wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, drying her tearstained cheeks. He would understand, she told herself. Edward, the one who loved her and cared for her and had been willing to die for her. He would…he would have, she corrected herself again. He would have understood why she did what she did. He would've understood that it was a lie she had to tell, a game she had a play. To pretend that he was nothing more than a boy from school, and she was nothing more than his science partner…he had a family too, after all. People to protect.

He would understand. He would forgive her.

He would have forgiven her.

Had any of it, any moment of it, been real.

Bella suddenly hurled herself from the bed, scrambling to the floor and taking half the tangled sheets with her. The realization hit her with the force of a train, slamming through all the confusion and delusion and the other tangled webs she was weaving.

She had never spent the night in that bed with Edward Cullen, and she never would. He would never come through that window, he would never hold her, and the monsters would never be at bay. For the rest of her life Bella would be at the mercy of the nightmares, sleeping with a ghost in her empty bed.

Choking on the weight of the truth Bella kicked the tangled sheets from around her ankles and scrambled for the door on her hands and knees. She emerged into the hallway and slammed it shut behind her, warding off the phantoms that felt like they were breathing down her neck.

"Bella!" Renee's shout echoed up the stairs, making her jump. "Come on, we're going to eat!"

She took a split second, a deep breath to compose herself, wiping her face a final time and smoothing back her hair. Calm and cool, she ventured downstairs, shrugging off the nagging feeling that no matter what happened tonight, she wouldn't be sleeping in that bed for a long, long time.

* * *

Bella watched Renee move around the kitchen with misplaced efficiency. She gathered plates and forks and produced a baking sheet which she used to re-heat a length of garlic bread in the ancient oven without so much as opening an incorrect drawer. With shocking sadness, Bella realized that the kitchen must have been the same since the day her mother walked out the door. She shuddered silently, feeling as though she wasn't sitting in the kitchen any longer, but in a mausoleum instead, an effigy to her parents' failed marriage. Somewhere in the living room Phil laughed, a sound that Charlie echoed in an empty, broken tone.

Bella didn't feel so hungry anymore.

But the four of them arranged themselves around the narrow table and pretended to be a functional, modern family as Renee heaped too much food on Bella's plate, and Charlie took much longer, deeper swings of his beer than usual. Phil caught her up on the details of spring training, Charlie discussed hiring a new deputy for the Forks Police force since Brian Williams had retired in January, and Renee planned to join (and eventually quit) a new book club over the summer, in addition to the tutoring she did on the side. It was all pleasant, mindless drivel, and at first Bella figured it was intended to mask the awkwardness of the situation. However, soon she began to suspect she was the only one in the room who didn't know something.

Renee blanched as Bella called her out on it. "It's nothing big, honey. We can discuss it after the meal."

Bella pushed her plate away from her and crossed her arms defiantly. "In that case I'm done, so somebody tell me what's going on."

Charlie and Renee played a game of hot potato with their eyes, tossing the topic back and forth between them both, before her father finally lost. "Bells, we've been talking. All _three_ of us," he stressed. "And we think it might be best if you move back to Phoenix with your mother during your recovery."

Renee jumped in before Bella could so much as muster a response. "It will be better, sweetie. There're quite a few great neurologists in the area, so you can finish your rehab at home, and I can be there for you twenty-four seven as soon as school lets out." She looked over at Phil expectantly. "And Phil's looking at some coaching opportunities for the fall so travel might not be as big an issue as we once thought. So this could be a really good thing, in the end…"

"She has a point, Bells," Charlie chimed in, a little too quickly. His upbeat tone failed to match the expression on his face, full of remorse and dread. "There's gonna be nights when I'm stuck at the station, and it's not good for you to be alone, or to have to live around my schedule until you can drive aga--"

"Dad!" Bella finally exclaimed, throwing herself headfirst into the conversation. "Mom, you can't seriously think this is a good idea. I mean, my doctors are all here and--"

"We are serious, Bella. I know it would mean changing doctors, but coming home could be the best thing for you right now," Renee said, glaring first at her ex, then at her new husband as if daring them to do anything but agree with her.

"But…I just got out," she looked from face to face, searching for an ally. "I just got home…and you already want me to leave?"

"Sweetie," Renee reached out and grabbed one of Bella's waving hands. "You were only here for a few weeks anyway. It's not like you're leaving behind the only school and friends you've ever known. Phoenix was home for you for a long time. All we're saying is that maybe it could be that for you again." Beside her, Phil nodded resolutely.

Bella searched for Charlie's eyes in desperation. Surely he wouldn't want to be alone again. He'd want her to stay and cook and keep him company and fill this empty house with something other than the ghosts of his ex-wife. But Charlie's face was a perfect copy of Phil's, outlining his stubborn intention to do what he thought was best for her, and not what he actually wanted.

Bella was surrounded.

They had ganged up on her. A mob, resolute in their desire to rip her from the one place in her life that felt as though it had any meaning. There was a time, long ago before the accident, when she would have said the same thing about the tiny blue house in Phoenix. But…things were different now. Phoenix was a desert, empty and dead and devoid of anything that had real meaning, now that she knew what meaning actually was, what living actually was. Forks, with its rain and snow and moss and trees, it had awakened something within her. Maybe it was magic, maybe it was madness, but Bella wasn't willing to walk away from it. Now yet, not now.

"Don't…I," she stammered. "Don't I get any say in this at all?"

"Of course you do," Renee chimed in, clearly the elected voice of the group. "But we need you to think about it, really think about it Bella, and then we'll decide, _as a family_, where you'll be better off."

The room was a swirl of faces, all sympathetic in view and manipulating in motive. Bella felt like they were closing in on her. She couldn't think with them all pressing in so close now. "I need some air," she declared, shoving back from the table with more force than necessary. "Alone."

Before any of them could utter a protest Bella slipped through the kitchen door and into the backyard, slamming the screen door shut on her family.

* * *

Bella heard the wet boards creak in protest behind her. She expected Renee or Charlie accompanied by the usual parental pep talk. But the steps were too heavy to be her mother's, and missing the weight of her father's steel toed boots. She turned around just as Phil took a seat on the stair above her.

"I don't know how you get used to living in weather like this," he said, looking out over the backyard and into the woods beyond. The air was thick with the promise of spring rain; heavy lines of clouds creating a ceiling so low in the sky is looked like a well timed jump from the roof would allow you land in them. "But there's no denying the scenery is amazing. I've never seen so much green."

"Yeah…" Bella agreed weakly, some part of her finding it darkly humorous that they were talking about the weather, of all things. "But you get used to it. It's worse when it snows."

"I can imagine."

A punctuated silence passed between them. Bella had always liked Phil, not only because he was good to Renee, but because as the product of a divorced home himself, he _got_ it. The entire time that he and Renee were dating, then engaged, then living together all under the same roof, he had never tried to be her dad. He didn't make any attempt to be her best friend either. He realized that she'd already grown into the person she was going to be, and that all he could do in her life was become a presence that she didn't resent.

And he did so, with the quiet grace of someone who has watched and learned from the mistakes of those who came before him. If Bella called home and Phil got to the phone first, he was more than happy to come pick her up. He left the disciplining and the curfews and the serious parent talks to Renee, and rightfully so. He asked her to help with things around the house rather than expecting her to, and never cajoled her into doing something he wasn't willing to tackle himself. But most of all, he never resented her for being the reason his wife wasn't with him many of those nights on the road, or if he did, he certainly never showed it. So for what it had been worth, their little system had worked fairly well, and Bella was grateful to him for that.

But it didn't make her any less surprised by the direction the conversation had taken at dinner.

She sighed deeply, breaking their silent observance of the cloud patterns as they shifted in the darkening sky. "Coaching, Phil? Is that really what you want to do with your life?" She turned around to stare at him quizzically.

Phil took off his baseball cap and ran his fingers through hair that looked a lot thinner than the last time Bella had seen him. "Have you ever seen a movie called _Bull Durham_?"

Bella shook her head.

"How about one called _For Love of the Game_?"

Bella could only shake her head again.

"Have you ever seen any Kevin Costner baseball movie?" he said, slightly exasperated that his explanation was being thwarted by Bella's lack of cinematic experience. "I mean, they're pretty much all the same."

"Sorry," she said lamely. "I'm not really into sports movies…or any movies."

"It's okay," Phil said, with a flip of his hand. "Look…it's just…" he struggled to find the right way to phrase what he was thinking. "When you're 21 and you tell people you're a minor league baseball player, they think it's cute. But when you get to be my age and you're still slugging it out down on the farm, trying to make it, and watching guys half your age and twice your size get called up instead, it becomes way less cute." He shrugged absently, but his eyes betrayed how sad he truly was. "It's just time to grow up."

"So…you don't end up like Kevin Costner?" Bella asked, still not getting the connection he was trying to draw between the films and his career.

He chuckled lightly in response. "Exactly, so I don't end up like Kevin Costner…sort of. But it's not just that, Bella." He looked back out over the yard, staring at the trees in the distance. "Look, when I married your mom you guys became my family. _Both_ of you," he said, pointedly. "And family takes care of each other, family comes first – it's what Renee and I agreed to when we got married, and we knew it. It's why she's been willing to spend all her extra days cavorting to the ass end of the country and back with me. And it's why I'm willing to find a normal, 9 to 5 job without so much as blinking." He reached out and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "That's what family does, Bella. Like it or not, kid, you're stuck with that."

Bella felt that familiar tingle as tears started to well up in the corners of her eyes. She turned away and chewed on her bottom lip, trying to keep it together. She might have always appreciated Phil, but she'd never known he cared that much. But to give up a dream like that, to be willing to make that kind of sacrifice…

…well, Bella had only experienced selflessness like that in another lifetime. She sniffed wetly, and wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve like a child, trying to be discreet. But Phil noticed and squeezed her shoulder again.

"Oh, buck up kiddo – it's not that bad," he said brightly, misinterpreting her tears. "But I felt like you needed to hear it from the horse's mouth. The choice really is up to you. You need to focus on getting yourself better, and that means you need to be where you think you can do that best. So while I know it's a challenge, don't fixate on us old farts and just worry about yourself for a little while, okay?"

Bella nodded with a sad smile. "I'll try, I promise. It's just hard, I mean there's my Dad, and you still have this season to play so you don't even know where you might be living next year…you old guys give us a lot to worry about," she teased gently.

Phil just chuckled again. "Yeah, we do that pretty good. And I will say this: if there's a silver lining in this mess of a situation it's that I got to meet your old man."

That was the last thing Bella expected to hear. "Really?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," Phil nodded. "Really, he's a great guy Bella, and you're so much like him." He got quiet for a second, contemplative. "I know it must be hard, having to see me with Renee, I know he misses her, and I know I'd feel the same if the roles were switched. But…I don't know. I feel like I understand what happened so much better now. I feel like I get it, you know? I think that he's one of the people who shaped your mom into the person she is today, and if anything I owe him for that."

"I don't think he'd see it the same way," Bella said softly, "But that's still…real nice to hear."

"That being said, we've had this discussion a good, few times before tonight," Phil further confessed. "And the three of us are in agreement that this needs to be your decision – you shouldn't feel obligated to stay here because of Charlie or my job, and you shouldn't feel obligated to come back to Phoenix just because your mom is worried."

"So no pressure?" Bella asked, sarcastically.

"Exactly," he agreed, but his tone betrayed that fact that he realized just how much was riding on her decision. "I know it doesn't seem fair--"

"No kidding," Bella interrupted. "But do you want to know something I've learned in the last few weeks?"

"Shoot."

She turned to glare at him over her shoulder. "Life's not fair either. It sucks that it takes severe head trauma to figure it out, but it's true…"

"No shit, kid. No shit."

Somewhere behind the canopy of clouds the sun was beginning to descend. The horizon was tinged barely pink, but the ambient light was beginning to fade and make it difficult to see. It was also alerting the mosquitoes that it was time for dinner. Even in this reality, Bella figured her blood must taste delicious, as she began to swat angrily at swarms that descended on her bare legs. Still, they were a minor annoyance compared to life lately, and Bella wasn't really willing to admit defeat and return inside just yet.

"So, Philadelphia?" she finally asked, breaking the silence that indicated Phil wasn't going back inside unless she came with him.

"Your mom tell you?"

"I…may have accidentally heard her mention it…" Bella confessed, and despite her reservations she felt a sly smile cross the planes of her mouth.

"You have good hearing. She's supposed to be keeping that information to herself until I actually know something." He laughed at himself. "We ballplayers are a superstitious lot – don't want to jinx anything before it happens."

"I'll keep it to myself," she assured him, raising her hand into the traditional Girl Scout salute, even though she hadn't been one since third grade. "Scout's honor. What's Mom think about that?"

"Speaking of sacrifices…" Phil muttered more to himself than to Bella. He leaned back against the porch front, brown furrowed in thought. "She puts on a good front, tries to act excited for my sake," he finally confessed.

"But…"

"But…she's your mom," he said, as if that explained everything. Which, to a degree, it did. "She'll hate the cold, she'll hate the winters and the rain. And she's never particularly cared for cheese steak, so there's that…" He shrugged helplessly. "I'd honestly hate to have to ask her to move, but there's the potential for it to be good money. _Really_ good money. We'll just have to wait and see I guess."

"What about some of the southern teams?" Bella asked cautiously, suddenly sensing this was the perfect opportunity to test a theory she had. "Like Florida or something?"

Phil just shook his head sadly. "Couldn't stir up a damn bit of interest there, or in Texas, not for lack of trying. Shame, too. Would've been good clubs to play with, and the climate would've much better suited your mother, but…" He shrugged again. "What're you gonna do?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Bella was asking herself the same thing. Philly, and not Jacksonville…for some reason she was surprised that the location had changed. Location, but not the situation – Phil was still pursuing a contract deal. What did it all mean, and why were the details wrong? _You're crazy, Bella, not precognitive. Stop thinking that real life is going to follow your own personal mind fuck, _she chided herself mentally._ Of course ballplayers want contracts, you have to stop thinking you know what's coming, you have to stop thinking that…that any of it was real – you know better. And you have to stop talking to yourself! That can't be a sign of anything good. Stop it!_

"Bella!" Phil said sharply, penetrating the haze of her one-on-one mental conference. She shook her head slightly and glanced up at him. His expression was worried. "I was talking to you for like a minute. Are you okay?"

"Sorry," she said, grinning sheepishly and trying her best not to look like someone who probably needed to have her sanity re-evaluated. "Just got lost in thought for a second. What were you saying?"

"I was asking you what you thought your mom might think of Chicago?" he said, relaxing a bit now that he knew she wasn't have an unresponsive seizure or anything.

Bella was mildly confused, and still a few steps behind in the conversation. "Chicago in the context of…?"

"In the context of a new home. I haven't told her yet, and it's just rumor at this point, but there's scuttlebutt that they might be looking to pick up a second baseman and I'm on the short list."

"Um," Bella tried to wrap her mind around this new information. "Well, it's more southwest than Philly, so there's that…"

"That's…completely unhelpful Bella, but thanks," Phil muttered with a sardonic smile. "Besides, that's even more of a long shot that Pittsburg. Still, you think I should have one of those frozen deep dish pizzas flown out to Phoenix, just to see if she likes it?

"Probably couldn't hurt," Bella agreed, whacking a particularly big mosquito as it feasted on her forearm. Her hand came away gooey. "Eugh!"

"You're getting eaten alive. That's probably our cue to retreat." Phil rose to his feet with the groan of a man who'd taken a physical beating recently, and extended a hand to help her up. "You coming?"

Bella wiped the bug guts on the damp grass in front of her, than waved him off. "I'll be

inside in a minute, okay?"

"Sure, but you'd better hurry," he said lightly. "I heard your mom say something about butterscotch rum soaked cake earlier. I have no idea what that is, but with both 'rum' and 'cake' in the title it can't possibly be bad, right?" He laughed at his own joke, and hurried back through the balky screen door and into the safety of the house.

The backyard was now dark, but Bella could still make out the clouds as they obfuscated the stars behind them. If possible, they seemed even lower now. Closer. Heavier. Pushing down on both Forks and Bella alike.

"Great," Bella muttered to herself bitterly. "Like I need any more pressure…" She got to her feet heavily and, with one more slap at the last errant insect, ventured back into the kitchen where not even the promise of cake could alleviate the weight of the worry on her shoulders.

* * *

Bella pushed the edge of the screwdriver into the crack in the humid wood, and held her breath as it squeaked loudly in response. Biting her lip, she waited to hear footsteps outside her door. But Charlie confirmed that he was safely in bed down the hall by snorting loudly in his sleep, before his light snores resumed their usual rhythm. She pushed against the screwdriver again, with more force this time, until it finally slipped into the space between the two slightly warped floorboards, popping one of them free.

"Thank God Charlie can sleep through a hurricane," she whispered to herself. It had taken a good half hour of tapping, banging, digging, prying, and occasionally swearing, to get the old boards to part with each other. Age and moisture hadn't made her job any easier. But it would be worth it to have a hiding place, away from the rest of the world.

For the first time Bella could remember, she was happy for her own delusional state. She'd forgotten about her hidey-hole years ago, and the contents showed it. She reached her hand into the depths of the hole, fingers blindly brushing against plumbing and cobwebs before they found the small shoebox. When she finally managed to pull it from the crevice, it was covered in a thick blanket of dust, which Bella was careful not to scatter about the room.

Inside were not pictures of herself and Edward, hidden by him in his haste to leave her to a human life, but the things that, as an eight year old, she had considered to be her most prized possessions: the post-card her cousin had sent her from her honeymoon in Paris, a collection of paper "moolah" dollars she'd been saving to get a free hot fudge sundae at the Diary Dream, and a much coveted sparkly rainbow super ball that she'd won off Rachel Black in a game of Jenga almost a decade ago.

But Bella hadn't spoken to her cousin in almost five years, the Dairy Dream got bought out and bulldozed to make room for a mini-mall, and she lost touch with the Black twins about the same time she lost touch with Jake…and the rest of Forks. Bella emptied the box and dumped the contents into the top drawer of her desk. Such precious treasures, now absolutely meaningless…

She wondered if five, ten years down the road, she'd open up that same box and contemplate how inconsequential its new contents were. Part of her hoped so, because it would mean she'd finally reached a point where the accident didn't matter, where she was okay, where she was just an ordinary girl living the same sane, ordinary life as every other girl. But until then…

Bella treated her duffel bag like it held something fragile. Maybe it did - the last pieces of her sanity. Or the last pieces of the Bella she once though she was. She didn't know. She dug beneath the neatly folded clothes and pulled out a pair of white socks. She unrolled then and reached into the toe, pulling out the crumpled, smudged, and torn remnants of an old MacDonald's bag. With a tiny half-smile she put it in the box without unfolding it – just knowing it was there made her feel a little bit stronger, made her hands shake just a bit less when she reached for her next hidden article.

Unfolding a tee shirt, she removed a blue Hallmark card, featuring a palm tree and the words "wish you were here."

It was not made out to her.

The moment Bella learned that, regardless of whether or not they were right, everyone including the shrink seemed to think she was sane, she began preparing to be released. All those weeks languishing in bed, Bella had been drifting, a boat that refused to be moored by anything in this life. After all, she'd awoken to find that all she had left to live for was now gone, so what was the point? But facing that certainty, knowing that she was going to be ejected back into her old life whether she wanted to be or not, had compelled Bella to do…well, something. Anything.

So she had walked. Not just back and forth to the bathroom, but up and down the halls. Forks Hospital was shaped like a U, and Charlie's clout had gotten Bella a fairly secluded room at the far north end. With a week to go before being released, her goal was to get to the south end by the busy nurses' station. Easier said than done – two months of total disuse had taken their toll on her muscles, and though she'd never been exceedingly athletic, she'd recently found even the simplest of physical tasks had left her feeling winded.

But Bella had become determined: if she was going to be flung back into the real world, at least she'd land on her own two feet. So despite the fact that she was no longer hooked to an IV, Bella had used the stand as a makeshift crutch, and proceeded to comb the hallways whenever permitted. On day one she'd only made it four rooms down and back before collapsing back into bed. Her calves had throbbed that night as she tossed in a restless sleep.

But her body's learning curve was quick, and by day three her feet and knees and ligaments remembered enough to get her around the first corner and into the narrow stretch of hallway by the supply room. Day five had put her around both corners, the bustle of the nurses' station acting as a beacon in the distance. She'd grabbed a pamphlet on herpes prevention off a rack on the wall as a milestone, a souvenir to mark her progress.

Day six had dawned with Bella at the far end of the south hallway, eight rooms separating her from her goal.

She never made it there.

Tired, but feeling upbeat, Bella had collapsed onto a bench between rooms to catch her breath momentarily. Breathing hard, she'd allowed her eyes to trail over the brightly colored bulletin board nailed to the wall across from where she sat. Similar boards peppered the stark landscape of each hallway, covered with bright paper and offering patients information on various events, menus for the cafeteria, interesting news stories, etc. This particular board was titled "Friends and Family of Forks General" and was covered with pictures of former patients, children of the staff, and local officials. There were hand-written thank you notes to various doctors and nurses, some in neat print, others scribbled in crayon on lined notebook paper. It was sweet and sentimental, and for a brief second Bella had allowed herself to smile. That smile had quickly vanished when she recognized two of the faces starting back at her from a glossy photograph, pinned beside a blue card.

Bella looked down at that same card, the one she stole from the hospital and smuggled out, now clutched in her hands. With shaking fingers she opened it. Inside, there was a note addressed to "all the staffers at Forks Hospital who have made such an impact on our lives" written in elegant scrawl, and a picture. Bella flipped it over, and Carlisle and Esme Cullen, along with 30 scrub-clad doctors-in-training, smiled back at her from the sun soaked pavilion in front of the UCLA Medical Center.

They were very much human.

* * *

**A/N:** A hearty thanks to blueandblack and ceci9293 for beta-ing for me. They are grammar goddesses and should be treated as such! And don't worry all, I promise Jake will be making his grand reappearance soon enough. Also, if _you've_ never seen a Kevin Costner baseball movie either, go rent one for crying out loud! It's pretty much all the man is good for :)


	5. Chapter 5

Rain pounded against the living room window with its usual, monotonous roar. Bella leaned her forehead against the cool glass and exhaled. The pane fogged up briefly before the condensation was chased away by the outside humidity. The weather was growing warmer now as summer approached, turning the usual Forks downpour into a muggy, and often foggy, mess.

Bella thought it made a fitting backdrop for the day's activities.

"You don't have to do this, you know," Charlie said, clunking into the room. He propped his foot up on the coffee table and began to lace his boots.

"Yeah," she sighed, turning away from the window and the greasy streak left by her forehead. At least cleaning it would give her something to do later. "I do."

"Eventually maybe, but it doesn't have to be today." He finished tying his shoes and then, shooting a furtive glance at his daughter, brushed the few crumbles of dirt off the table and onto the floor where they could be easily swept up. "We can wait till next week…or the week after that."

"We already made the appointment," Bella reminded him.

"Appointments can be rescheduled."

Maybe he was trying to give her an exit. Or maybe he was just as afraid of going back there as she was. But either way Bella could tell her dad was stalling. It was easy behavior to recognize – after all, she'd been doing it all week. But she could only clean and languish around the house for so long before she worried it would start to make her crazy.

Well, crazier than she already was, at least.

"No time like the present." Bella tried to make her face reflect the optimistic sentiment, but all she could manage was an expression of determined apprehension. "Let's go."

Charlie looked at her for a moment, fighting his own reluctance. "Alright," he finally consented. "Get your bag. I'll meet you in the cruiser."

For the first time in three months, Bella retrieved her backpack from its usual position at the foot of her bed, dislodging some stray dust bunnies as she did so. With trembling hands, she pulled on one of the baseball caps that Phil had given her as a present before he and Renee grudgingly flew back to Phoenix.

Alone.

A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that the black hat neatly covered the bald patch which still marred her skull. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it was better than walking around feeling exposed to the world. She felt exposed enough as it was. And she had the sinking feeling that it was only going to get worse. She pulled the front door shut behind her and prepared to make the run from the porch to the car through the storm.

"Wait." Bella skidded to a stop a second before leaping into the cruiser. Through the blinding rain she glanced around the driveway and the surrounding street. They were both empty, and something was missing. The rain now forgotten, Bella stuck her head in the car door and demanded to know, "Where's my truck?"

* * *

They took the long route to the school, traveling the side streets instead of going up Route 54. It wasn't until they had parked in front of the main office that Bella realized it was because the longer route avoided passing the student parking lot. She was silently grateful as she peered through the rain and mist at the administrative wing of the building.

"You know," her father muttered darkly, turning off the car, "You could've avoided this entire experience if you'd just gone back to Phoenix."

Bella zipped up her coat. "I know," she replied with a sad smile. "But I'm glad I stayed."

He didn't respond, but Bella could tell that, despite all the extra worry she caused, Charlie was glad she'd stayed too. "I'm coming in with you," he said finally, and Bella didn't protest. In fact, she welcomed his company. It was funny – two months ago this had been her nightmare scenario: getting dropped off in the cruiser on her first day of school, then escorted in by the town sheriff. But now Charlie seemed like a welcomed ally as she made her way back into enemy territory.

Welcomed and necessary, because the moment Bella set foot in the familiar school office, she shut down. Her body was there, but her mind was back in a different time, a different place. Edward and his cold demeanor, his desperation to escape from class, a desperation she had once believed to be related to her.

Now she knew better.

On autopilot she listened to her counselor and the vice principal explain her options. Thick packets of missed homework and handwritten notes from the teachers were stuffed into her backpack. The words "supplemental classes" and "extended instruction" were tossed around a lot, but she really didn't know what they were in reference to. Bella only contributed to the conversation when her counselor suggested that maybe she'd benefit from finishing the rest of this year's curriculum with a private tutor in Port Angeles, then rejoining her class in the fall.

"Yes, please," Bella said softly. All three adults stopped talking and turned to stare at her. They were the first words she'd spoken since the meeting had begun.

"Bells, are you sure?" Charlie asked hesitantly. "I mean, Ms. Jorgensen doesn't think you'll have any problem catching up with a little bit of help."

"I…I just think it would be for the best," she stuttered. A business card with the name of the tutor found its way into Bella's bag as well, and she again disengaged from the conversation.

Just moments before they could make their escape, Charlie was detained by the secretary. "This paperwork has been sitting here for forever, but the school needs you to go through all these liability papers and the extended absence forms…" She dropped a stack of papers as thick as a phonebook into Charlie's waiting hands.

"Why don't you go get what you need out of your locker and, I don't know, take a walk or something," he suggested, looking exasperated. "I think I'm going to be here a while."

Freedom was the last thing Bella wanted in this institution. She drifted at first, going hall to hall in the main building, until she randomly wound up in the correct one. Her locker had been turned into an impromptu memorial, it seemed. Cards and notes and even a few cheap stuffed toys had been secured to the front with painter's tape and other, less school endorsed, adhesives. While three months ago they'd probably been bright and cheery, the hustle and bustle and general disarray of the teenage populous during passing periods had left most of them wrinkled and grimy. The cards taped lowest to the door were stained black from the splashes of dirty snow dislodged from dozens of boots as they swarmed by. It was both a sweet and utterly depressing display to behold.

Bella lightly pushed open one card near the top depicting a bunny covered in a rainbow band-aids, and read the generic note inside. It wished her a speedy recovery and was signed by a girl named Liz. Bella had no idea who she was, or who most of the cards were from. It baffled her that these people would presume to care about a person they'd never even met. Maybe it was the result of her minor celebrity status here in Forks, or maybe because people felt a connection to the accident since it took place in the school lot, but for whatever reason the students here wished her well.

And Bella wanted nothing to do with them.

In her first days at school she'd been too consumed with being the awkward new girl to want to meet people. The kids at Forks had seemed intent upon breaking her bubble, the barrier Bella had spent so long building around herself in Phoenix, and she resented them for it. And now…

…now she was too consumed by the loss of the few people who had managed to tear those walls down to want to let anyone else get that close again, no matter how good their intentions were. One by one, Bella ripped the tape (and a fair amount of blue paint) off her locker door. She wadded up the cards and the paper and all the well wishes.

Every note and knick knack.

Every hope and dream that she'd ever (never) had in this godforsaken building.

All of them went into a pile, and when she was finished she carried the mess out the doors at the end of the hall and pitched them into the dumpster behind the building. It wasn't until she bent down to wipe her hands clean on the damp grass that Bella realized exactly where she was.

Her feet moved of their own accord, through the throngs of cars arranged neatly into rows. It had once been her path from History class to the Biology building. She knew the steps well. At the end of the last row she turned to look out toward Route 54. At the entrance to the parking lot, beneath the puddles of murky rain water, a set of black skid marks was faintly visible, drifting over the gravel, and disappearing exactly where Bella was standing.

Exactly where she'd been standing nearly three months ago, lost in her music and a boy's stare from across the lot. If she closed her eyes, she could still see it all happening, feel those same emotions all over again.

She waited for the tears to spring to her eyes, but none came. She was beyond the kind of pain that could be expressed through tears. Bitterly she wondered what she would do if she was given the chance to stop the accident from happening. Five seconds later, five seconds earlier, and she could've avoided the impact that crushed her skull. A difference of five seconds, and she could've avoided the madness, the hallucinations that now plagued her.

Five seconds, and Edward Cullen, a boy she didn't truly know, would not haunt her anymore.

She tried to determine an answer, but the question, the problem itself was insurmountable. Too big and too much for Bella to hold. As she looked out over the slick pavement all she could hear was the chorus of squealing tires in her head, repeating over and over again, stopping every time and drowning her in a sickening silence. Her whole body seemed to clench, freeze, and shut down. It wasn't just her lungs that weren't working this time. Bella felt her stomach twist into knots, pitching and rolling from side to side. She felt the burn of acid on the back of her tongue. She felt the gravel of the pavement bite into her skin as she dropped to her knees and threw up in the bushes.

Wracked with heaves, it felt as though her body were trying to purge itself of the entire situation: the crash, the school, the Cullens. When she was ill as a child her doctor in Phoenix used to say "garbage in, garbage out" as a way to encourage her to eat better. Bella had always believed it to be a stupid mantra, but it felt more true and applicable now that it ever had in her youth. Poisonous thoughts in, poison out. Hatred in, hatred out. Anger in, anger out.

As much as she might or might not wish it to be so, Bella couldn't undo the damage that had already been done to her. Nothing short of a miracle or a time machine could take away the scars the accident had marked her with, both seen and unseen. But as she lay there, panting and slumped against the cold brick exterior of the science building, Bella knew the time for such bitterness had passed. Something had been taken from her, something irreplaceable. She could mourn, she could cling to her memories until they laid her in the ground. But both her mind and her body agreed: the time for such anger was over.

"Life's not fair," she'd told Phil bitterly. It was easy to say the words aloud, but another thing entirely to live by them. Still, as Bella wiped the sweat off her clammy forehead, she knew she'd have to try.

It was what Edward would've wanted.

"Bella?" a voice called out cautiously. "Bella Swan?" Gravel crunched beneath two sets of feet to her left, and she whirled in response. Angela Webber was running across the parking lot towards her, followed by a camera-toting blonde girl she didn't recognize. "Are you alright?"

Self-conscious now that she had an audience, Bella wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and tried to straighten her hat. Still, she felt that making herself look presentable was probably a losing battle. It wasn't like Angela was likely to care anyway. "I'm fine," she assured her, but the words came out weak and shaky. Her throat burned when she spoke.

Angela bent down and put her cool hand against Bella's forehead. "You don't look fine."

"Um, Angie?" the blond girl interrupted, awkwardly pacing behind them. "Is this something I'm supposed to get a picture of?" She raised the camera around her neck.

Angela sighed, but it didn't seem to touch her good-natured attitude. "No, Kacey, this is not a Kodak moment. Tell you what, go back to the office without me and pick the best from those shots we got. We'll go over them when I get back, okay?"

This didn't appear to be the answer Kacey was looking for, but it was almost impossible to talk back to Angela. She just had that demeanor – she could find the good in every one, make the best out of every bad situation. She never held a grudge, never believed the gossip, never had an ulterior motive. It made her easy to like…and absolutely impossible to argue with.

"Fine," Kacey pouted, but started to walk back towards the English building where the school paper had their offices.

"Oh, Kacey?" Angela added. "If Eric asks, I stopped to talk to Mr. Lambert, okay?"

"Fine, whatever." She kicked at a stray stone as she sulked away.

With a groan, Angela mimicked Bella and leaned back against the wall, pulling her knees to her chest. "I figured since it seems you're trying to fly under the radar, you probably don't want the editor of the school paper finding out you're here, huh?"

Bella said a silent prayer, thanking the powers that be for Angela's perceptiveness. "Thank you. I'm just not ready yet and…"

"It's okay, you don't have to explain," she assured her quietly. "But you do look like you're feeling pretty lousy," she said, indicating that Bella looked like hell in the kindest way possible.

Bella chuckled darkly. "Yeah, it's been a long day. A long few weeks, in fact."

"I bet." The sky above them rumbled threateningly, but neither girl felt the urge to move. Forks managed to both give people a whole new respect for Mother Nature, and make them completely immune to her usual tactics. It would take a lot more than a little thunder to drive either of them inside.

"So I met your mom when you were in the hospital," Angela said finally, trying to fill the silence. "She seemed real nice, but she said the family didn't want visitors so I didn't come back."

Bella actually recalled Renee mentioning something about it once she'd woken up. "Yeah, she loved your cookies."

"Really?" Angela asked, her smile growing exponentially. "It was a new recipe. I'll give it to you tomorrow and you can send it to her."

"I--" Bella grimaced. "Um…I'm don't think I'm coming back, Angela. Not this year at least…"

"You're leaving?" Her smile suddenly faltered, and she looked inexplicably sad behind her tortoise shell glasses. It was strange – Bella had only known this girl a few weeks in real life. How could the thought of her leaving possibly make her so sad?

How could she possibly care so much when Bella cared about the people here so little?

"No," Bella assured her hurriedly, eager to chase away Angela's doomed expression. "I mean, my mother wanted me to go back to Phoenix. But I'm staying here. I'm just going to see a private tutor through the end of the school year, I think. Being here right now is just…it's still too hard."

"Sure. And I bet the tutor's really nice. You probably get to make your own schedule and no passing period," Angela said wistfully, as though Bella had been given an enviable opportunity. And the way she spoke about it, she was beginning to believe it actually was.

"No gym," Bella added to the list. "That's probably good both for me and for the rest of my class."

Angela laughed as Bella pantomimed hitting herself in the face with a volleyball serve. "Yeah," she agreed. "But Mike will miss you. Actually, we all do," she admitted.

Bella knew this was when she was supposed to say she missed them all too, but the honest truth was that she hadn't thought of the people she'd left behind at school since coming home. They'd been easy to write off as figments of her imagination. After meeting Edward, their encounters had been brief, superficial, shallow. And in reality they'd only gotten to know her for a few weeks before her world had fallen apart. She was more an oddity to them than a friend.

Or so she'd thought.

But it seemed that perception was wrong.

"I…" she started to say, knowing that whatever came out of her mouth would either be a lie, or the disappointing truth. But the sight of Charlie pulling up in the car saved Bella from either fate. "I should go," she told Angela lamely, shaking the mud (and other liquids) off the bottom of her bag. "But it was good to see you again."

Before she could hop into the cruiser though, Angela pulled her into an enthusiastic hug, and then scribbled her phone number onto a post it note. "Just in case you forgot what it was," she said as a joke. Bella didn't laugh.

She actually had.

* * *

Scalding water did little to wash away the events of the day, but it left Bella feeling slightly calmer. Not that it was likely to make sleep come any easier or more peacefully than it ever had. She was drying her hair on the landing afterwards, and was surprised to hear voices echoing through the usually quiet house.

Correction: one voice. Charlie was talking on the phone. And judging by the calm, even friendly tone he was using, he was probably not speaking to Renee. She crept down the stairs and paused at the bottom, listening.

"I don't know, Harry. What if something happens and no one's home? I'd never forgive myself. And even if I did manage to, Renee would certainly never forgive me." There was a long pause before Charlie laughed briefly. "Are you really going to lecture me on the medical benefits of eating fish right now?"

Apparently Harry really was, as Charlie was quiet for a long time after that. "No," he said finally. "I just think it's too soon. But I've got that three day weekend coming up after the June review. Maybe then…"

Bella had heard enough. She didn't have to hear the conversation in its entirety to know that Charlie was bailing on some much needed time with the guys, and that he was using her as an excuse. Irritated, she promptly marched upstairs and into Charlie's room, grabbing the portable phone off his nightstand. She pushed the TALK button in time to hear Charlie parry another suggestion.

"Hi Dad," she said brightly into the receiver. "Hello Harry."

"Bells?" Charlie demanded, and it sounded strange hearing him both through the speaker and faintly down the hall. "What are you--"

"Bella, babe!" Harry exclaimed, cutting Charlie off mid-rant. "How're you feeling, dear? Sue and I've been thinking of you."

"Much better, Harry," she chirped, though there was an edge to her voice that she was sure both men noticed. "I hear I should be asking you the same thing, though. You watching what you eat?"

Harry laughed into the receiver. "If I'm not, then you can bet your ass Sue is. She practically weighs everything before it goes on my plate." There was an unintelligible shout in the background that indicated Sue did not appreciate being mocked. "But I love her for it," Harry added quickly. "And it's got me feeling fit as a fiddle, so I can't complain."

"Good." Bella climbed back down the stairs, peeking around the corner at Charlie. He glared at her while she danced beyond the reach of the cord on the phone in the kitchen. He'd either have to surrender his phone to come take hers away, or surrender himself to the kitchen and allow her to stay on the line. But either way, Charlie recognized he was suddenly outnumbered.

"Isabella Swan," he said warningly. "Hang up--"

This time Bella cut him off. "So Harry, I'm sorry but I couldn't help but overhearing your earlier conversation."

"Small house," he said, playing along with her. "It happens."

"It really does. Anyway, Charlie has the day off tomorrow and he's completely free. He'd love to go fishing. Should he grab Billy and meet at your house around, say, quarter after six?"

"Sounds perfect," Harry agreed.

Charlie's protests were losing their edge. "Now just hold on--"

Bella stuck out her tongue at her father where he slumped, looking exasperated, against the kitchen counter. "Okay, I'll tell him. And I'll even throw some goodies in the cooler for you guys."

"Why thank you, Bella. That's so sweet of you. Give our love to Renee next time you talk to her."

"Will do. Have a good night, Harry."

"You too," he signed off. A second later the phone line went dead, and Bella hung up her receiver as well, walking into the kitchen. Charlie looked torn between rage and amusement as he hung up his phone, then snatched the portable from Bella's hand.

"Young lady…" he admonished, but Bella only laughed

"You're not seriously going to give me the 'young lady' talk, are you Dad?" She pushed past him and opened up the fridge, unloading cold cuts and various condiments onto the counter. "I'm not a kid anymore."

"Then what was that little stunt back there?" he demanded, finally stepping out of her way as Bella seemed bent on working around him.

She began lining up bread on the counter in a sandwich assembly line, slathering two-thirds of the slices with mayo. "That," she said matter-of-factly, "was me giving you a much needed day off."

"Bella--" he started to protest again, but she cut him off with a wave of her butter knife.

"No Dad, listen for a second." She whirled around to stare him straight in the eye. "I'm fine. I'm not made of glass. I'm not going to break while you're gone. You can't baby sit me all hours of the day and night. You don't do it when you're at the station, you didn't do it while I was at school today. What makes this so different?"

Charlie threw up his hands. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "It's one thing to leave you to go to work – I have an obligation to put a roof over your head too, after all. But if something were to happen while I'm out goofing off then…" He shrugged and let the sentence hang in the air, but Bella knew what he meant. If she were to have a seizure or pass out or something while he was off fishing, he'd never forgive himself for being so irresponsible.

Bella put the knife on the counter and wiped her hands on a nearby dishtowel before walking over and throwing her arms around Charlie's neck.

"What's this for?" he asked, returning the hug.

"Just…for being a good Dad, that's all." Since waking up Bella had been too busy being consumed by her own problems to really think about what kind of impact the accident had had on her family. After all, she slept through the worst of it. But…two months of waiting while the person who means the most to you hovers somewhere between life and death…it was no small wonder that Charlie was having a hard time letting go.

But that didn't mean the accident could be allowed to impact their lives like this forever, either.

"I get that you're worried," Bella said, breaking their awkward embrace. "But you have to start living again, okay? It can't be all about me anymore. It's can't be all about the accident anymore." She couldn't help but think that she sounded like the world's biggest hypocrite as she spoke, but Charlie shouldn't have to suffer for her madness. She returned to the counter, busying herself with the sandwiches and praying that Charlie couldn't see right through her.

"You're right," he said finally, punctuating the words with a deep sigh. "I know you're right, Bells but…"

"But what?"

Charlie hesitated again. "There's no way to say it without sounding condescending, but until you have kids, and I expect that to be a long, long time from now," he added as a caveat. "But until you have kids you just can't understand what it feels like. From the first moment we hold you in our arms, from that first step you take away from us, you can never understand the kind of worry that a parent feels. It's…indescribable. And hard to conquer. And seeing you like that…after the accident…" He sighed again. "I'll try, that's all I can promise."

"And that's all I can ask," Bella said, wrapping foil around the last of the sandwiches. She stacked them in the fridge, then turned to face her father. "It'll be fine, Dad," she added, trying to chase away the lines crossing his forehead in deep furrows. "Don't forget to put the sandwiches in the cooler before you leave in the morning, and take some water, not just coffee. Harry's are the sandwiches with no mayo, and I made you tuna. Okay?"

Charlie finally smiled at her ruefully and nodded. "Okay. I'll call you tomorrow to check up on you. Sleep tight, Bella." But his smile dissolved into a look of perverse worry as she climbed the stairs back up to her room.

* * *

_"Wait, stop!" Bella screamed, her breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. Still, she pumped her arms and legs faster, faster. Faster than she knew was safe. Brambles reached up and tore at her ankles, roots sent her crashing to the ground, only for her to get up again and continue the chase._

_But still it was not fast enough. The figure flitted between the trees, always out of reach, always ignoring her desperate pleas. A liquid shadow, it moved black on black against the backdrop of the forest. Each stride was sure, each jump was true. The being moved with an uncanny grace, a lithe stride that never missed a step. It practically flew._

_And yet Bella knew she had to catch her. "Stop," she screamed. "Stop! Alice!" _

_It was her, it had to be. Nothing, no human, no vampire, nothing moved the way she did, darting between the branches with reflexes not of this world. She'd come back for her…and now she was leaving again. No! Bella wouldn't be left, not again!_

_But the figure remained in the shade, masked by the leaves and unwilling to recognize her. Before them the trees thinned and disappeared…and so did the ground. They raced towards the cliff, one after the other. _

"_No!" Bella screamed as the ground raced up at her, scratching and tearing at her flesh as she fell. "No!" There was no chance now, no hope. She watched as the girl…as Alice reached the tree line, the edge of the cliff, and hurled herself into space._

_But before she could plunge to the torrential waters below she exploded into dust, vapor that mixed with the sea spray and dissipated on the wind, leaving Bella alone once more._

* * *

**A/N: **So when I posted this chapter it was actually well over 10,000 words in length - too long for a single Live Journal post. Therefore, I was forced to split the update into two individual chapters over there. For simplicity's sake I'm going to do the same thing here. Look for Chapter 6 (the unofficial part two of this chapter) to be posted sometime tomorrow night after I've verified the edits. Just think of it as two updates for the price of one.

Also, in case you didn't know Dreaming of Butterflies was nominated for 3 different categories in the **Indie Twific Awards**: Best AU (Work in Progress), Best Non E/B Storyline (Work in Progress), and Most Original Storyline (Work in Progress). Voting is now open, so if you love reading DoB as much as I love writing it please head over there and cast your vote:

**http[colon]//www[dot]theindietwificawards[dot]com/vote[dot]aspx**

Finally, a huge thanks to both blueandblack and ceci9293 for being the world's most awesome betas


	6. Chapter 6

"I can't believe you're making me do this…" Bella muttered, trying to sleep with her head against the window. But each time the cruiser hit a pothole the entire car would lurch, slamming her skull against the glass and waking her up.

Beside her, Charlie just smiled and continued to nod in time with the oldies pouring out of the speakers. "Have a heart, Bella. I'm an old man, worried about the safety of his daughter."

"Stop," she told him darkly, rubbing her bruised forehead. "Just stop. You've already guilted me into coming, what more do you want from me?"

"Well a smile wouldn't hurt." Bella sneered in response. Twenty minutes earlier she'd been pulled from the throws of a nightmare by Charlie, dressed head to toe in fishing gear, and already fully caffeinated. It seemed their conversation last night had been insufficient to allay his fears, and the only way he could _possibly_ go out and enjoy himself today would be if she came with him. After another ten minutes of protest, during which Bella made it abundantly clear she would not, under any circumstances, be fishing, Charlie agreed she'd be sufficiently close enough if she spent the day at the beach.

So now she was stuffed into the cruiser with a backpack full of her backlogged homework and all the sun block she could find, heading back to one of the last places she expected to go today: La Push.

* * *

First Beach was…empty, both literally and metaphorically. It was still too cool out for there to be much beach interest, even on a sunny day, and the wind was too weak for the surfer crowds. Which left Bella alone on the sand, a blank expanse she'd once walked so many times she could practically do it in her sleep.

Of course, the irony there was that she actually _had_ done it in her sleep.

She refused to venture towards any of the familiar spots in her head. The driftwood log, the cliffs etched into the distance. The ocean and the shores and the forests that lined them all, they no longer held any mysteries for her. They were trees and rocks and nothing more.

Bella was nothing more.

And as of yesterday, on her knees in the school parking lot, she made it her goal to accept that lot in life. She didn't have to let go of the memories, but she owed it to herself to try and let go of the bitterness that accompanied them.

She was Bella Swan. No addendum, no subtitle. A girl, once interrupted but now back on track. And she would learn to make that enough.

But it seemed as though the higher the sun rose in the sky, the longer she sat there, pensive before the waves, the more impossible that goal became. Normal was not in her vocabulary, her repertoire. Normal girls had wants, needs. Normal girls craved social interaction; they had friend and enemies, families and lovers. Bella had no one.

Correction, Bella had someone. Singular. And he was only half a mile away.

* * *

A relief that she had not felt once since waking up washed over Bella when she emerged from the undergrowth right where she expected to be. The dilapidated building had once been painted barn red, but age and weather had chipped away at most of the color. The roof lacked shingles, the plywood covered only in sealant and tarpaper that did little to ward off the rain at times. The only natural light came from a long row of windows up high, beneath the eves, probably designed for ventilation without allowing people to snoop inside. The entire structure listed uneasily to the left, and was probably approaching the point where it wasn't safe for habitation. But as far as Bella was concerned, it was perfect.

It was identical to the building which she had only ever seen in her mind's eye. And that made it more perfect still.

The large doors on the opposite side must have been opened to the fleeting Olympic sun, because voices, loud and boisterous, filtered back through the trees around her. In another time, maybe, Bella would've simply bounded around the garage and jumped into the fray. But here, now, she felt like an interloper. This was not the Jake she remembered, she was not the Bella she wanted to be, and this garage had not become a second home for her the way it once had.

Sure, he'd said he'd see her when she got out. But what was Bella supposed to say? _"Hi Jake, sorry I seemed so crazy last time we met. But my shrink said I'm just fine now. So what's new with you?"_ The real world didn't work like that. At least, it wasn't supposed to. So no one was more surprised than her when she found herself balanced precariously on top of the wood pile stacked against the back wall, straining to see in the small window.

A myriad of different voices drifted up from inside. She recognized Jake's timbre right away, though the others seemed familiar. From the sound of it they were working on a car, though she wasn't tall enough to see it.

"You have to bang it harder," Jacob's voice ordered. "Otherwise it's never going to budge."

"Dude, I know you keep saying that, but I have about six inches of room in to work in down here. I can't even swing the damn hammer all the way."

"Well…" Jake seemed to falter. "I don't know, find a way to make it work. If Uma Thurman could punch her way out of a coffin with less than six inches to work in, you should be able to bang out a dent."

"If _that_ is what Uma Thurman really looks like, then I am switching teams," a third voice declared. "Quil, you make one fugly woman."

"Fuck off, Call! You're a nerd and nobody likes you!" Quil (at least, Bella thought it was him) apparently thought of himself as an attractive woman, as he seemed to take the comment personally.

"Jake?" Embry asked in response. "Can I borrow your lug wrench?"

"Why, you think that would work better?" It sounded like Jacob was the only one actually focused on the task at hand.

"No, I'm going to use it to hit Quil repeatedly."

"What…no!" Jake declared in response. "Dude, I stocked boxes at the Piggly Wiggly for eight months to buy that tool set. Hit him with something less valuable, like a rock or your fist."

"Hey!" Quil protested, obviously not wild about the idea of being beaten. "Can't we just focus on the car and, you know, not on bashing my brains in?"

Suddenly curious to see what they were working on, Bella stood on her tiptoes and strained to see over the window sill. She was barely able to make out the familiar curve of an orange bumper before she felt the wood beneath her begin to slide away.

"Shit…" Her feet flew out from under her as the log pile collapsed, and Bella crashed to the ground, landing flat on her back. The force of the impact knocked all the air out of her lungs, and left her gasping like a fish on dry land.

The crash was loud enough to get the boys' attention, and she heard footsteps moments before a familiar face appeared above her. She'd never met Quil Ateara before, at least, not in real life.

He looked exactly the way she'd imagined.

"Hey guys!" Quil called out brightly, peering down at her curiously. "Come here! I think its raining chicks!" He looked up at the sky expectantly.

"Chick, Quil," Embry's voice shot back. "As in singular. As in your dreams of a foursome with the Swedish models has been crushed yet again. As in, it will never be anything more than a fantasy archived to the Penthouse Forum."

"Stuff it, Call! You're a nerd and nobody likes you."

Embry ignored him and squatted down into Bella's line of sight. He was long and lean, the spitting image of the boy she'd dreamt an encounter with. "You okay?" he asked. Bella tried to respond, but through the combination of shock and impact, she couldn't force any sounds out of her mouth.

"Holy shit!" A third voice finally exclaimed. Seconds later another body crashed down beside Embry's. "Shit!" Jake exclaimed again. "Bella? Please tell me you're not dead! Are you alright?"

"Bella? Wait, that's coma girl?" Quil demanded. Everyone ignored him.

"Super," she finally managed to croak in response. She could picture people she'd never met with shocking clarity and had probably re-fractured her skull, but it's not like any of that actually mattered. "I'm super." Her breathing was returning to normal slowly. But her head and back still throbbed, and the world didn't seem as clearly defined as it had once been. Everything had soft, fuzzy edges.

Jake calmed down now that he saw she was actually alive. "What the hell were you doing?" he demanded.

"Testing gravity. Looks like it's working…" Bella groaned and tried to sit up, but Jake and Embry pinned her shoulders to the ground in perfect unison.

"Lie down for a second," Jake ordered. "You might have a concussion or something." He looked at Embry expectantly. "Shit, what're the signs of a concussion? Isn't it--"

"Bella," Embry interrupted, saying her name very slowly and clearly. "Do you know where you are?"

"Hell?" she ventured to guess. Her head pounded wickedly in response.

Embry turned to glare at Jake, who was now nervously pacing in the background. "I'm not a doctor, but I believe sarcasm is usually a good indicator that someone is not concussed." He got back to his feet, then hauled Bella back to hers with one large hand. "I think she's fine."

As if on cue the grass seemed to incline slightly and her balance wavered. Jake was instantly at her side, his shoulder tucked beneath her arm. "Relax," she scolded him as her equilibrium righted itself. "I've got a hard head, remember?"

"Okay, I get that you're trying to be ironically cute and all," he muttered, leading her around toward the front of the garage. "But you see, I have to figure out how to get to Canada before Charlie finds out you were hurt on my watch and kills me, so I'm too busy to engage in witty banter with you right now. I mean Jesus, Bella. It's called a door…"

"So I should shut up, then?" Bella replied sarcastically, her mood improving now that the pain in her back was beginning to ebb.

"Just for a minute, yes." But he took the sting out of his words with a soft smile, and bumped into her shoulder playfully. Inside he cleared away some boxes and junk, eventually plunking her down on an old milk crate. And when it seemed like the other two boys were adequately distracted and out of earshot, he leaned in a whispered something only to her. "By the way, welcome back."

* * *

Jake handed her a warm Coke, and Bella tried not to let her hand shake as she took it from him. "Now, isn't this more fun than sitting on the beach alone?" he teased.

"It's certainly…something," she agreed, wincing involuntarily as Embry and Quil selected which tools to beat the inside of her truck with. "I still can't believe Charlie agreed to pay you for this."

"He'd get over charged anywhere else around here," Jake said defensively. "It's not really a difficult or skilled procedure."

The boys worked as well as they fought, exchanging insults and swapping tools with ease. "See," Quil tried to explain. "With a vehicle as old as yours body work is more a science than an art.

Embry, sprawled beneath her truck on a dolly, then proceeded to whack at the foot-long dent from the opposite side with a hammer. "And when says science," he shouted over the sound of his own banging. "Quil means physics. Action…" he took a particularly hefty swing, but the dent didn't budge. "And reaction…or lack there of."

Quil grabbed his friend around his ankles and hauled him out from under the car. "Embry, you're so nerdy it's sad," he muttered shaking his head in disappointment. "And it means you're never going to get laid."

"Not true," he protested waving his hammer under Quil's nose. "Nerdy teenagers eventually turn into doctors, and chicks love doctors. Right?" he turned to Bella for confirmation.

"He has a point," she was forced to agree. "George Clooney was never more attractive then when he was playing a sympathetic pediatrician."

"Ha!" Embry gloated.

Jake looked over the bed of the truck to stare at her strangely. "What?" Bella demanded, fidgeting under his gaze. "Renee and I went through an _ER_ phase when I was younger. Don't judge me."

"Zero judging," he assured her. "I'm just reevaluating my future goals now, don't mind me…"

Food was eventually demanded, and upon finding what Jake's fridge had to offer unsatisfactory, money was counted.

"I have five," Jake said, throwing it down onto the sad little pile. Embry pulled a few crumbled bills from his pocket.

"I have a ten, but I need some of it for lunch on Monday." Quil added it to the stack, then stuffed Jake's contribution back into his pocket.

"I have a ten," Bella lied. "That should be enough to buy us a pizza." She pulled out the cell phone that had been a mutual gift from Renee and Charlie before she'd gone home last week. It was flashy and silver and had a lot of features which Bella had no use or patience for. She carried it the way a horse wore a bridal: reluctantly, but with the knowledge that resisting would only be more painful in the end. It gave both her parents peace of mind, and that was great, but in return Bella felt as though she was always being watched.

Still, it came in handy when feeding three hungry boys. She ordered an extra pizza and told the guy at Pizzono's to cover them both with as much meat as they had. The guys had been nice to her today - t seemed like the appropriate way to say thanks. Besides, she did owe Jake a meal.

When the driver pulled up in front of Billy's house, she ran out to meet him. Hoping the guys couldn't see Bella pulled two twenties from her purse, then tipped the driver with a five. She turned to start back up the path towards the garage, but practically collided with Quil, who was barreling down on her.

"What the hell was that for Swan?" he demanded, catching her by the elbow before she could trip and drop their food. He waved their pile of collected money under her nose. "We can pay for our own pizza, you know?"

"No it's…I," she stuttered, taken aback by his sudden defensiveness. "That's not what I was implying at all. I just--"

"I know things look a little different here than where you live, but we don't need your charity."

"That's not what I meant at all," Bella protested. "It's just that I owe Jake lunch. You guys are benefiting by proximity. But if you want to pay me for your share that's fine…"

"Oh," Quil said dumbly, taking one of the boxes from her hand. "No, that's okay then. I'm happy to benefit from his generosity. I just didn't want…I didn't want you to think…"

"It's fine," she assured him with a nod, though still a little puzzled by his reaction. She'd only been trying to be nice…

"So," Quil said, taking a slice from the box and devouring it while they walked. "This is your way of paying Jake back from all those nights he spent at the hospital, huh?"

"Yeah, I gues - wait," Bella said, after her brain took a moment to process what he'd said. "What?! Quil, what are you talking about?"

The color drained from Quil's face as Bella turned the tables and started barreling down on him. "Oh, shit…"

* * *

Charlie, Billy, and Harry returned to dry land shortly before the sun went down, and with a cooler full of fish to show for it. Impromptu plans were made as Billy lit a fire in the pit in his back yard, and the boys set about teaching Bella how to clean fish.

"That's gross," she declared, watching Embry and Jake scrape the internal organs from two particularly large trout. "I could barely handle dissecting the frog in eight grade science class, and now you want me to do this?"

"C'mon Bella," Embry teased. "Guys love those outdoorsy chicks."

"Well, when you put it like that…nope, sorry," she shot back. "Still no flipping way."

They came to a compromise when Quil handed her a knife and let her de-scale the fish he'd already cleaned. It was more culinary than biological, and certainly something that Bella, being Charlie's daughter, had done before. They worked shoulder to shoulder at the big picnic table in the backyard, which Billy claimed to have built himself ten years prior, and Jake assured everyone had been purchased at the Wal Mart in Port Angeles last Christmas as a gift from his sisters.

Charlie and Harry cooked the fish on a grill rack over the open flames, and they ate their fill with their fingers off paper plates, picking carefully around the bones and, in Harry's case, a stray eyeball that had been left behind accidentally. It was a comfortable event, familiar in a strange way. The conversation seemed to flow easy and with less strain than Bella was used too. And when she didn't have anything to offer there were no awkward silences, as someone else always had a story to tell. By the time they'd eaten their fill, and run through all the usual tales (and lies) that old men typically tell, the sun was long gone.

"Go straight home," Billy said warningly when Quil and Embry, finally sated, went to retrieve their bikes from behind the garage. "I won't tolerate any of that delinquent horseshit from my boys, and that includes you two."

"You still having trouble with--"

"Yeah," Billy told Charlie. "But they still don't want you involved. The tribal council wants to handle this one on their own."

Charlie pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, fighting off a frustration induced headache. "Well you tell the tribal council to do something soon, or else I'm going to get involved whether they like it or not. You're the chief, lay down the law."

"I'm working on it," Billy muttered, rolling back into the house. "In the meantime I just want to keep my boys out of trouble."

"If you're worried, I could've drive them home," Bella offered, and both boys paused at the edge of the lawn, intrigued by a route home that required no effort on their part. "I mean, my truck's already here."

"You don't have a license, Bells," Charlie reminded her.

"No, but I have a permit," Jacob added helpfully. "She could supervise me while I drove them home…" Bella shot him a glance and he winked in response.

"I…" Charlie stuttered, looking from one hopeful face to the other. Finally he threw up his hands. "Fine, go. Be safe, come straight home." Shaking his finger at Jake, he added, "And you, no funny business."

* * *

"What was that all about, back at the house?" Bella asked as she watched Quil wheel his bike up the path to his house.

Jake shook his head ruefully. "Nothing, just some guys making trouble on the rez. The adults can't agree on how to handle it. They'll figure it out." He tried to sound nonchalant, but something in his tone implied he just didn't want to talk about it anymore, and Bella let the subject drop.

After dropping both boys off at their respective houses, Bella and Jacob drove home in silence, interrupted only by the sounds of the gravel crunching beneath the tires, drifting in through the open windows. Bella thought they'd have a lot to talk about, that Jake would ask a hundred questions about the hospital and the shrink and how she'd gotten out. But she was tired and he was quiet and it just felt…nice.

"So," Jake said finally. "When did you become a baseball fan, exactly?" He reached over the flicked the bill of her cap. "Big fan of the Muckdogs, are you?"

Bella laughed – she had no idea what team the hat belonged to. She just liked the logo: a snarling brown bulldog in a baseball uniform. "It was a gift. I'm just using it to cover up the spot where I had my surgery."

"Why?" he asked. But before Bella could respond he flicked the cap off her head, revealing the bald patch on the back of her skull.

"Hey!" she protested, making a grab for the hat. But Jake snatched it from her grasp and plopped it squarely on his head. "Give that back."

"In a second," he teased with a grin. "Give your head a chance to breathe. No one can see your bald spot while we're driving."

"You can."

"Okay," he amended. "No one who cares can see your bald spot while we're driving."

Bella had to admit that it did feel nice. She took down her ponytail and let her hair blow in the breeze. The hat didn't look half bad on Jake, either.

"So," Bella continued to look at him curiously. "I still don't get why you're being so nice to me…"

Jacob threw back his head and laughed, a raucous, infectious sound that made Bella smile without intending to. He looked at her like she was crazy. "Did they beat you back in Phoenix or something?"

"What?"

"It's like you walk around under the belief that all people are inherently evil schmucks who kick puppies. Would you like me to be mean to you? Would that be easier to wrap your head around? Cause, I mean I could try…" He let the threat hang in the air.

Bella rolled her eyes at him, and let her hand drift out the open window and into the night air. "I'm sorry, I'm just not used to people being so willingly…I don't know, friendly? You're just so easy to get along with, it's strange…" She wiggled her fingers in the wind, playing with the feel of the cold air as it whipped around them.

"Ah, I see," Jake said suddenly. "I'm not standoffish enough for you."

"That's not--"

But he cut her off. "No, no, it's okay. I have girl friends, I have sisters," he said knowingly. "I get it: you like it when we brood. I can brood with the best of them, Bella. Here, watch." He pursed his lips into a frown and lowered his head, glancing over at her from beneath his heavy brow. "How's this?"

Bella snorted into her hands. "You look like a stroke victim."

"Damn," he muttered, slamming his fist against the steering wheel. "Okay, so I'll have to work on my brooding. But in the meantime don't you think it might just be easier for you to learn to like friendly people?"

"I'll work on that too," Bella promised, flashing Jake the same Girl Scout salute she'd given Phil earlier in the week.

"Good," he said with a smile. Bella recognized Billy's house in the distance, as they turned down the unmarked street. "So I'm still waiting for you to thank me."

That caught Bella completely by surprise. "Thank you for what?" she demanded. "For failing to fix the dent in my truck?"

"No." He drove the truck into the grass and threw it into park beside the garage, but didn't get out. Instead he turned to look at her, sporting that same, sly smile he'd been wearing all afternoon. "For today," he explained. "Admit it, Bella – you had fun."

And she had, Bella was shocked to realize. Maybe it had been so long she'd forgotten what it felt like, or maybe she'd just been unwilling to open herself up to the possibilities of enjoying her life as it now was. But pizza and fish and too many dirty jokes to count had been such a welcome, such a natural, distraction that she'd actually enjoyed herself without even realizing it.

But Jacob had broken the bubble by pointing that out; calling attention to the change only forced Bella to remember that she didn't usually have fun, and it was because of everything that she'd managed to forget for those few, precious hours. Still, he looked so pleased with himself, sitting there, proudly displaying the fact he could make her laugh like a badge of honor…Bella didn't have it in her to take the wind from his sails.

"Thank you," she said softly, turning away as she got out of the truck so that he wouldn't be able to see her face fall. She knew what she'd be facing the moment she left his side, the inevitable ghosts that would be waiting to haunt her at home and in her dreams tonight. She started walking towards the house, but Jake jogged over to the passenger side of the truck and stopped her there.

"So if you really did have fun, that only begs the question," he explained, touching her gently on the arm to stop her from walking away. "When are you coming back?"

She hesitated. The feel of his hand on her arm was strange, if only because it felt natural to have it there. _You're crazy_, Bella reminded herself. _You can't tell fantasy from reality. You can barely deal with this on your own – don't drag him down with you._ "I'm…not sure that's a good idea," she finally muttered. She tried to push past him, but Jake held on to her forearm and spun her around to face him.

"Why not?" he asked.

There was no simple way to answer that question, no way to dance around the subject. Besides, he already knew her secret. Sometimes honesty was the best policy. "Because I'm dealing with some stuff that I'm not entirely sure I can handle. I'm not sure it would make me very good company."

He shrugged. "I don't care."

"You do realize that I'm crazy?"

"Have you met my friends?" he shot back. "You'll fit right in."

"I'm being serious, Jake."

His smile faltered a little. "So am I."

"But…" Bella hesitated. "What if I can't do it? What if I can't keep this you and…and the other you, separate? What if I can't--"

"Bella!" Jake interrupted. He seemed more confident, as if he could sense her walls were crumbling. He took the stolen hat off his head and plunked it back down on Bella's. "Stop worrying so much."

He began walking towards the house, and Bella hurried to keep up with his long strides. "I can't help it – it's my default state."

"You should get into that stress relief stuff Rachel does," he said thoughtfully. "Yoga or Tai Chi or Tai Bo or Tai something. Or you can just come down here and beat Quil," he joked. "That seems to work well enough for me."

"Yeah, I'll get right on that – hey!" Bella suddenly remembered her earlier conversation with Quil, after the pizza debacle. "That reminds me, I wanted to ask you--"

"BELLA!" The shout rang out across the lawn as they approached the back door. Charlie was standing by the side of the cruiser, holding a cooler full of leftovers and waving with his other hand. "C'mon kid. We gotta go!"

She turned to run, but Jake caught her hand. "Wait. What did you want to ask?"

Bella spun around and looked at him sheepishly. "It's…never mind. It's not important. I'll ask you next time." And she said it like a promise, pleased when Jake smiled in response.

Reluctantly he let go of her hand. "I'm gonna hold you to that, Swan," he declared as she hurried across the lawn to where Charlie was waiting. "Though next time just knock on the door!" Bella turned as she piled into the passenger seat, and waved one final goodbye.

"So," Charlie said smugly, handing her the cooler. "I take it you had fun too."

"Yeah, yeah," Bella admitted. "You were right: today wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be."

"See, this is why you should always listen to your parents."

She tried to think of something snarky to say in response, trying to ensure that being right just this once didn't go to Charlie's head. But the engine was purring beneath them and the seat was soft and Bella Swan was too tired to do anything but smile.

* * *

_"You're not paying attention, Bella!" Rosalie snapped, whacking the blackboard sharply with her wooden pointer. _

"_Yes I am!" Bella protested again, stamping her foot in frustration beneath her grade school desk. She was wearing her favorite shoes with the lights in the heel, and they flickered with each impact._

_Rosalie adjusted her glasses as they sat balanced on the bridge of her nose. "Then prove it to me and read it again, correctly this time." She held her pointer beneath the only line on the board, written in delicate cursive._

"_I am Bella Swan," Bella read aloud, enunciating each world with perfect clarity as Rose pointed to it. But again this was the wrong answer, and again teacher lashed out in rage, slamming her stick against the top of Bella's desk and making her jump._

"_You're not listening, Bella. Are you stupid or just naive?! Do I need to write home to your mother and tell her she gave birth to a moron?"_

"_No please!" Bella pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please don't tell my Mom! I'll try harder, I swear!"_

"_Last chance." Teacher Rosalie resumed her place at the board, and touched each neatly written word once more._

"_I am," Bella tried again, in a quivering voice. "Bella Swan."_

_Rosalie did not scream, did not admonish her again. Instead she just looked terribly sad. "I'm sorry Bella," she muttered, in a voice devoid of any real emotion. "That's incorrect. The correct answer is…"_

_She flipped the chalkboard over, revealing the other side on which someone had scrawled a message in a substance that looked a lot like blood:_

_**I AM THE MONSTER IN YOUR CLOSET**_

* * *

For the first time in ten years, Bella Swan slept with the lights on.

* * *

**A/N: **So here we go: I promised you more Jacob and I delivered...eventually ;) I'm sorry for the delay and the confusion with the previous chapter's word counts - had livejournal not been such a bitch this would have been part of the previous update. But better late than never.

Also, in case you didn't know Dreaming of Butterflies was nominated for 3 different categories in the **Indie Twific Awards**: Best AU (Work in Progress), Best Non E/B Storyline (Work in Progress), and Most Original Storyline (Work in Progress). Voting is now open, so if you love reading DoB as much as I love writing it please head over there and cast your vote:

**http[colon]//www[dot]theindietwificawards[dot]com/vote[dot]aspx**

Finally, a huge thanks to both blueandblack and ceci9293 for being the world's most awesome betas


	7. Chapter 7

Bella didn't get to uphold her promise to go back and see Jacob.

Harry Clearwater died on June 2nd at 7:23 pm.

* * *

The house was empty when Bella stumbled through the door, fresh from her first tutoring session. Not that she'd been expecting Charlie to be there or anything. It's just that Bella didn't like empty. Empty was trouble. And right now trouble was whispering in Bella's ear: _you knew this was coming, you could've stopped this, you could've saved him._

_You should have known._

She pressed her hands to her temples and squeezed, hoping and praying that it wasn't true. After all, the Harry she knew had died when…well, it didn't matter. There were no wolves now. Her twisted logic had no basis here.

And still her conscience ate at her. In her mind's eye all Bella could see was Leah, Seth, Sue…their faces as she knew them, mournful and empty and pained. She could see her father and Billy, broken and tired.

_You should have known._

"It doesn't work like that," she muttered to herself. "It's not the same…how could I have known? And even then, what could I have done?"

Her logic was flawless. But guilt and logic don't work on the same planes. Bella's brain and gut were turning in the same, sad circle that she was pacing. Round and round and round; by the time the tears began to flow she was too dizzy to know if they were for her father, for the Clearwaters, or for her own twisted existence.

* * *

The phone rang twice before a groggy voice answered, "Hello?"

"Mom?" Bella pressed the phone harder against her ear, straining to hear. The kitchen clock read 10:04 pm – it wasn't i_that/i_ late. "Did I wake you up?"

"Huh? Oh, no it's okay, honey. We're just in Virginia tonight. Its a few hours earlier here," Renee assured her, though the sleep was painfully evident in her thick voice. Quickly, though, the sleep gave way to carefully controlled panic. "Is everything alright?"

"I – yeah Mom, it's fine…" She twirled the phone cord around her finger. Mostly she was just relieved to hear another voice, one that wasn't her own, one that wasn't accusing her of being responsible for someone's death. "I just…I thought you might want to know…Mom, Harry died tonight."

There was a long pause on the end of the line, followed by what sounded like a door closing in the background. Bella imagined Renee standing on the balcony of some cheap motel in her bathrobe, whispering to avoid waking the baseball players sleeping behind the paper-thin walls on either side. "I know, baby," she said finally, breaking the silence. As Bella predicted she was still talking in that harsh, hushed whisper. "Jerry, down at the station, he called me earlier. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just…" Again, she hesitated, trying to find the words to explain the emotions knotted up inside her. "I just…I wanted to hear your voice. I'm not sure why."

"Oh baby, it's okay." In her head, Bella could feel the gentle touch of her mother's hand on her shoulder, against her cheek, reinforcing the words. "Death does funny things to people. But I'm still here. So's Phil, and your father. We're still a family and we all love you."

"I know, I love you all too." Again, her feet began to trace the same circular path, this time on the kitchen tile. "I just…I don't know. I wanted to talk to you, wanted to ask you…you know…what am I supposed to be doing, I guess?" she finally said. "I mean…I'm not really good with funerals and all--"

"Honey," Renee interrupted her stumbling. "No one is good with funerals."

The relationship between Bella, her mother, and the real world had always been lopsided. Bella had carried an undue burden growing up – forced to be the mature one in the family, the practical one, the one with her feet on the ground. But bills and housework were one thing. They still couldn't make up for the life experiences she hadn't yet had, and in that regard Renee was much more well versed that she was. This was one of the rare times when Bella actually felt like a daughter, asking her older and wiser mother what to do.

It felt strange.

"Am I supposed to send flowers or, or--"

"Just be there," Renee interrupted her. "You don't _have_ to do anything more than that. Be there for Sue and the family – let her know you're willing to help. But mostly just…be there."

Bella sighed, covering the receiver so Renee couldn't hear. She'd been looking for specifics, an itinerary of proper mourning procedures that she could walk through step by disinfected step. Something to keep her from getting caught up in all the pain around her, in her own swirling vacuum of loss.

But some situations in life didn't come with instructions, and Renee was making it quite clear this was one of them.

"Are you flying out for the funeral?" Bella asked, chewing on her lip when her mom didn't answer right away.

"I wish I could, baby," she finally said. "But, and I don't want you feeling guilty about this, I burned through all my frequent flier miles going out to Forks and having Phil come up all those times. And with school being out for the summer and all, money's a little too tight for me to fly."

Despite her mother's caveat, Bella couldn't stop the guilt that welled up in her chest. It was easy to forget just how much her parents had sacrificed for her. She knew Charlie was hiding the bills that were undoubtedly coming in.

"How's," Renee interrupted her latest guilt trip before she could say anything else. "…How's Charlie?"

"I don't know." Bella shrugged, though her mother couldn't see it. "He hasn't been home yet.

The quality of Renee's tone changed, her voice taking on a familiar timbre that Bella couldn't initially place. Weary, burdened under the weight of a chronic ache that had faded with time, but never really healed as it should. "Keep an eye on Char-- on your father, Bella," she added. "This is going to be hard on him – more so than he'll admit. And he…he doesn't handle loss well…"

That last line hung between them heavily, a venerable pink elephant that neither one of them wanted to acknowledge. But they both knew that what Renee really meant was that Charlie hadn't handled loss well since he'd lost her.

Bella hung up the phone, plagued by the feeling that everyone in her life was haunted by someone, and unwilling to admit it…

She had truly become her parents' child.

* * *

The next morning Bella woke up on the living room couch, where she'd fallen asleep waiting for her dad. The only indication that Charlie had been home was the quilt that he'd covered her up with as she slept. He'd arrived after she'd passed out, and departed before she was up. There was an empty bowl on the counter, fresh boot prints by the backdoor, but no actual signs of her father.

Which left Bella with limited options. She certainly couldn't be useful on the rez without a way to get there, but that didn't mean she couldn't help out from home. Charlie's suit hadn't been worn…well, in years probably. She found it hanging in the back of his closet, a wrinkled gray mess. Rather than hiking the four miles to the near dry cleaner, Bella hung the clothes in the shower and emptied the water heater, trying to steam the wrinkles out herself.

The dishes were washed.

The boot prints were scrubbed away.

And by the time the afternoon rolled around, she was out of things to do. Dinner was a ways off, but she felt like if she got started now, all she'd have to do was pop it in the oven when Charlie inevitably got home. She scrambled together what she had on hand, and set about making her dad's favorite lasagna. But the tomatoes were about to turn, so to use them up she made enough sauce for two pans worth. She planned on putting the other one in the freezer for later, but then figured that if the Black's house was anything like her own, they'd all be too busy too cook too. She'd send the extra casserole over there. But the Black's house was probably nothing compared to Sue's right now…

Which is why, four hours later, Bella had practically emptied the freezer and the fridge of all edible products. She had enough pre-made meals to feed the Clearwater's for a week, with a few left over for Billy and Jake. Ground beef. Pasta. Chicken. She even tried something called cheesy hamburger pie, the recipe for which she'd found in a cookbook that likely predated her own birth. She wrote out cooking instructions on tin foil, and covered each dish before shoving it into the busting fridge. Keeping things cool had become a lot like playing Jenga.

And yet, in the chaos and process of cooking, Bella managed to find some peace. When her hands were busy, it gave her rebellious mind less opportunity to wander into dark places, as it was prone to doing. She was a machine, blissfully lost in her work until a thunderous pound on the door brought Bella back into the present.

Afternoon had faded into late evening, and she was puzzled as to why someone would be at her house when it was pushing ten. Bella opened the door cautiously, wondering if perhaps Charlie had forgotten his keys. The porch light was burned out, so it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. She recognized the orange truck parked on the street before she recognized the figure standing on her stoop.

"I'm sorry," Jake said stupidly, oblivious to the driving rain that had already soaked him to the bone. His ponytail was plastered wetly to the side of his face. "I didn't know where else to go. I…I had to get off the rez for a while and…" He shrugged sadly. "I just didn't know where else to go."

"Its okay," Bella assured him gently. She moved over and gestured for him to come inside. But Jacob just continued to hover on the threshold.

"I mean, I know you have enough on your plate. I don't want to add to it or--"

Bella grabbed him around the wrist and yanked him into the house. "Just get inside, Jake!" With a shove she slammed the door against the gale.

Standing there, dripping awkwardly on the living room carpet, Bella thought it was strange that she could now see herself reflected in Jacob's expression. Something inside him was broken too. Maybe not a badly or as permanently as it was in her, but evident nonetheless. It wasn't just that the corners of his mouth were turned down, it was the way that his whole body seemed to sag and droop. It was the way that the teasing light in his eyes seemed to have been extinguished by the rain and the loss and the burden he was carrying. It was how Bella felt like she was starting not at Jake the teenager, but at Jake the eight year old who didn't understand why that his mother was never coming home.

It was hard to look at.

It was why Bella hadn't looked in the bathroom mirror in weeks.

"I'm sorry," he finally said again.

"Stop apologizing," she told him insistently. "You're the one who keeps insisting we're friends. Well, friends get to help each other."

"Most friends aren't going through what you are," he whispered, even though they both knew they were alone in the house – Jake had parked in the cruiser's usual spot. "Most friends aren't--"

"Crazy?" Bella supplied helpfully, pleased when the glimmer of a sad smile crossed his face. "Doesn't change the fact that my door is always open."

"I…" Again he seemed to falter, like it was hard to find the words. "Thanks."

But he still looked worried and sad and because Bella wanted so badly to make it all better she reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck before she could stop herself. The fact that he was freezing sent an unpleasant shock through her system, but he was still tall, and he still smelled like grass and rain and sunshine and all the good thinks about Forks. She closed her eyes and buried herself under all those dangerously familiar things. And when Jake finally embraced her in return, she had to bite back against the contented sigh that tried to break through her lips.

Like the recovering alcoholic secreting a drink, Bella slipped into the fantasies in her head. And though she knew it was wrong…knew that it would hurt worse in the morning, for a second she closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the delusion that this was _her_ Jake, hugging her like he always did, and that she'd open her eyes to find her world had righted itself in the process. She half expected to feel him bury his head in her hair, to feel his lips pressed against her forehead, to…

No.

With slow, painful deliberation Bella forced those thoughts from her mind. However badly she might want to feel whole again, Jacob needed her more now. This Jacob.

Her own pain would have to wait for once.

She unwound herself from Jake's lean body, shaking the water from her limbs.

"Sorry," he apologized again.

"What did I just say about that?" Bella demanded in mock exasperation. An embarrassed smile flickered briefly across his face, gone as quickly as it came. "C'mon. You must be hungry." She grabbed his hand again, and led him into the kitchen.

"Starved, actually. I--" He stopped short when his eyes fell on the massive pile of soiled cookware that seemed to cover every surface. "What the hell?"

Bella scratched at the back of her neck awkwardly. "We all have our coping mechanisms," she said by way of explanation. "I figured Sue could use a few extra meals. I cooked a few for you and Billy too." She popped the lasagna she'd made for herself and Charlie into the microwave to heat up, and grabbed a few plates. It wasn't until Jake mentioned it that she realized she was starving too – Charlie would just have to reheat his food later.

Jake took the plates from her hand before she could protest. "That's very thoughtful of you, but you know we can take care of our own. Sue's not going to have to cook for a month at this point."

"Well, now she won't have to cook for a month and an extra week, alright?" Bella said harshly, the ire rising in her tone. She whirled to look her friend in the eye. "I wasn't implying that Sue didn't have help from you or the community. I was just trying to do my part by being a decent human being. Why is it every time I try to do something nice you guys get all defensive?"

"What do you mean by 'you guys'?"

"You. Quil. Literally: you guys. What gives?"

"I…" Jake faltered. "Sorry, I'm just cranky. It's been--"

Bella cut him off. "No, I'm sorry I snapped at you." She doled out the now warm pasta, making sure to give Jake extra. "Go, sit in the living room. I'll go grab you some towels too."

When she came into the room, carrying her own plate and a pile of bath towels, Jake was hovering in front of the window, staring out absently into the dwindling storm. His food was sitting on the coffee table, untouched.

"You miss him," Bella said softly. It wasn't a question.

Jake shrugged. It wasn't an answer. "It's strange," he murmured, looking out into the night. "I mean, Harry was a role model for a lot of us. Tribal council, good job, good family. But, after my m…" he hesitated. "After everything that happened when I was little, it was like he became a part of my family. Charlie, too. It was like they made it their job to fill that void left by…losing her. I know it's twisted, but it feels like I lost a parent all over again…"

"It's not twisted." Bella touched his shoulder gently, and pushed the towels into his hands. "It's understandable. Of course he was part of your family. Of course…of course it's going to hurt like that all over again."

Jake took a long time drying his face off, and wringing out his hair. When he finally took the towel away, he looked down at Bella ruefully and said, "I'm just tired of losing people. That's all."

"I know," Bella said. What she really meant was _me too._ But she managed to muster up a smile, for his sake. "Look, what do you say we pop in a movie and just veg for a while, huh? You look like you could use it. I just rented this video last week and its more fun with company." She slipped the DVD in the player, and tossed Jake the box.

"You rented _Field of Dreams_?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, I know it's not very girly. But my stepdad thinks it's vital that I see Kevin Costner in a baseball movie and this was all they had at the Pick-a-Flick." Jake's face was still twisted up in confusion. "What?" Bella demanded. "Is it bad or something?"

"No," he assured her. "It's fine. It's just…the subject matter doesn't really seem like…well, your thing."

"What? You think I can't watch a movie about baseball, men, and midlife crises? I may not have an interest in any of those things, but I think I can manage to keep up." She was teasing but Jake's expression was still stoic.

"Bella, it's a movie about a guy who hears a mysterious, disembodied voice telling him to build a baseball diamond in the middle of his corn field, while the rest of the world thinks he's gone crazy."

Bella's throat clenched suddenly, an unfortunate reflex. She coughed wildly, trying to catch her breath, as Jake pounded on her back. "See," he said. "It won't be good for your health."

"No," she rasped. "No, it's fine. Just hit play."

"Bella, I really don't think…"

"Start the damn movie, Jake!"

* * *

Jacob pressed closer on the couch, shoulder to shoulder. "Now I'm the one worried about you," he muttered.

Bella had a throw pillow clutched to her chest, obscuring everything but her eyes. She pulled it away to speak. "I'm fine…"

But it was a lie. There was a war taking place inside her mind. A battle between blind faith and the reality of the world around her. Was she just like Ray, a mundane portal to something extraordinary? Was she ignoring her call? Had she succumbed to pressures of the world around her to conform and act normal and think normal and try to _be_ normal, when she was meant to be anything but? She tried to tell herself that Edward wasn't asking her to plow under her back forty and build a baseball field, and that when it came down to it, the only voices she ever heard were those of her own demonic intuition, her conscience. There was nothing she was supposed to do. There was nothing she could do.

And yet she felt as though maybe she'd failed.

"It's not the same, Bella." She jerked in surprise: surprise from the feeling of Jake's mouth pressed against her ear, surprise from what he'd said. "You're not Ray," he went on. "And you're still not crazy."

"I didn't say I was," she managed to squeak in a broken whisper. "How did you--"

"You're like an open book," he replied. "Easy to read."

"Only to you."

He shrugged absently, and the bubble of personal space grew between them as he finally drew back. "I'm just perceptive."

So was her Jacob, the one that only lived inside her mind. Bella found herself confusing them more readily now – their lines were starting to blur. Maybe, because the more time she spent with this Jacob, the more she realized they were one in the same. She'd been right about him all along. She peeked over the pillow and noticed he was watching her instead of the movie. "What?"

"You're doing it again. Getting lost in your head." In the light of the flickering movie screen she could see that his forehead was creased in worry. Her own inner turmoil faded into guilt for the umpteenth time in as many days.

"I'm sorry, I'm supposed to be here to help you," she apologized. "I'm not being very good company."

He bumped her shoulder again, and there was a world of comfort in that brief touch. "You're being fine company. You have no idea how much it helps just being here.

You-"

He stopped short as the doorknob began to turn back and forth with a metallic fluttering, blocked by the deadbolt in either direction. Something banged against the wood sharply, and Bella flinched with the sound. It took her a moment to remind herself that vampires don't need to use doors, and that short of them she could handle just about anything. She crept off the couch, but Jake stopped her before she could move far enough to peek out the front window. With a finger to his lips he crept towards the door, just as the knob gave another violent shudder.

But before he could get to the peephole, the knob turned all the way and the door exploded inwards. Jake leapt back in surprised as the door banged off the wall beside him.

"Oops," Charlie said, listing crookedly against the doorframe. His keys slipped from his grasp. Behind him, a cab peeled away from the curb and down the street. He peered into the room, unfocused eyes shifting back and forth between Bella and Jacob.

"D-dad?" Bella stuttered in disbelief. Charlie looked up and tried to take a step towards her, but teetered uneasily to the side. He clutched at the doorframe a second before he could fall. "I…" She looked at Jake desperately.

"Oooookay, Chief," Jacob said with more composure that Bella could muster. He threw one of Charlie's arms over his shoulder and grabbed the man around the waist. "What do you say we take a load off?"

Awkwardly, the duo crossed the room and Charlie landed in an unceremonious heap on the couch. "Yer a good kid, Jake," he muttered, blinking blearily. "You should go home to yer Dad though." He swayed unsteadily and Jake pushed him back against the cushions.

"Yes sir," he said, biting back the amusement in his tone. "Bella, can you come help me in the kitchen first?"

Bella followed him through the doorway. "Oh my God!" she said in a harsh whisper when they were finally out of earshot. "Is he drunk?"

"So it would seem." Jake was biting back silent heaves of laughter.

"Jacob Black! This is not funny!"

"It's a little funny," he protested, filling up a glass with water.

"Yeah, I'm sure you'll say the same thing when you see the state Billy's in at home. C'mon, you can't possibly think Charlie was drinking alone…"

His face fell noticeably. "I…well, shit."

"See, not so funny now," Bella gloated.

Jake just thrust the glass into her hands with a sour look. "Just make sure he drinks lots of water."

"I will," she promised, putting the glass down and retrieving the food she'd made earlier. She loaded up Jake's hands, then filled her own. "I need you to drop some of these off at Sue's on the way home too. "C'mon, I'll walk you out." And they crept out the backdoor and around the house in order to avoid disturbing Charlie.

* * *

"You want me to stay in case Charlie gets sick or something?" Jake asked, stashing the last of the dishes on the floor of the truck. "Crash on the floor?"

Bella was touched by the sincerity of the gesture, but felt he had enough to worry about. "Thanks, but we'll be fine. Besides, Billy probably needs you more right now."

He groaned. "You're probably right." Reaching across the passenger seat, he turned the key in the ignition, and the truck kicked to life. "As if tomorrow wasn't going to suck enough already..."

He turned to leave, and Bella flashed him a rueful smile. "You'll get through it," she assured him.

"Yeah." Jake suddenly appeared very awkward, rubbing the back of his head and trying to avoid her eyes. "Listen…thanks for tonight and all."

"You don't have to thank me," she assured him. "I mean, I seem to remember you trespassing on hospital property on my behalf. I owed you."

"We're even." And he leaned over and punctuated that statement with a brief hug. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I'll be there."

"Good," Jake said. "I mean, it's not good at all. It'll just be good to have you there." He leapt into the truck and pulled the door shut before Bella could say anything else, and he waved as he pulled away from the curb. The rain started to fall again as he rounded the corner at the end of the street, forcing Bella back inside.

She locked the door behind herself, and collapsed into her dad's big easy chair, suddenly exhausted. Bella grabbed the faded quilt off the back and pulled it up to her chin, perfectly content to spend the night there. It wasn't as if she was able to sleep in her own bed anyway. After the first nightmare, she'd taken to sleeping hunched over in her old rocking chair, staring out the window into the darkness until exhaustion overcame her discomfort and she descended into an uneasy rest. The change in locale hadn't made the nightmares stop – it just made time spent awake that much less painful.

She allowed her head to list backwards, but just as her eyes were beginning to close…

"You have a bed upstairs, Bella," Charlie said thickly. Bella gasped and felt the adrenaline hit her system as his voice cut through the blackened silence around them. She'd thought he was asleep.

"I'm fine right here," she assured him breathlessly, trying to calm her palpitating heart. But her hands continued to shake as she smoothed the quilt over her lap. "Go back to sleep."

"I'm so sorry," Charlie continued, oblivious to her command. The sounds lay heavy on his tongue as he spoke. "You shouldn't have to see this, I'm so sorry." His voice cracked.

Through the darkness, Bella heard him pick up the glass of water she'd left for him. Moments later she heard it hit the table, empty. "I don't understand anymore…it just doesn't seem right. It's not right, I tell you…"

Bella squirmed in place, uncomfortably. This was a Charlie she'd never seen before. He was so much like her – surrounded by walls, and of the mindset that such walls were intended not to be breached. All her life her father had been tightly controlled, all responsibility and silence. It's not that he was particularly cold, just reserved and content to stay that way. But now, intoxicated and spewing his every thought…Bella didn't know how to react.

After all, she was just like him.

"I know life's not fair and all," he said. "But this…this is…I mean Harry was a good man. He is a good man! And we need more of 'em, not less. His family needs him, and his friends…Billy an' me…we need him too."

Bella felt the telltale stinging in the corners of her eyes. She didn't even have a best friend to lose and still she couldn't fathom what that would feel like. If it was anything like losing Ed…losing what she had lost…then there weren't words enough to explain the sympathy she felt for her father, for Billy, for the entire Clearwater family.

That was a tearing, ripping, searing pain that she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. And Bella Swan knew a thing about enemies, too.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she finally whispered in response, her own voice weak. "I wish--"

But Charlie interrupted her. "That's the amazing thing about you, Bells: you came back." There was a shuffle, and for a second it seemed that he'd tried to get to his feet, only to fail. "Everyone…everyone who's anyone to me…I always lose them. Your Nana and Papa…your mother…my best friend…"

"I…" Bella didn't know what to say to that.

"But you, Bella. You always come back. After all those years in Phoenix you came back…and after…after all those weeks…" His voice cracked again. "After I thought we'd lost you too…you came back to me. At least…I have that to be thankful for…"

He was silent after that, silent and still. Heavy breathing descended into snoring as, for once, alcohol got the better of Charlie Swan. But rest wouldn't come so easily for Bella. She didn't know how long she sat there in the dark, tears cutting rivers down her cheeks. No matter how many she cried, there always seemed to be more waiting to fall.

Something had happened in the dark that night, and Bella knew it. Somewhere between the liquor and the grief, Bella had glimpsed the man her father truly was. The walls, his walls…they weren't just there because Charlie was reserved by nature. They were there because, starting from the age of five when lung cancer took his father, Charlie had gone through life expecting to lose everyone around him. His mother, the year after he graduated from the police academy, had gone so suddenly. An embolism. With Renee, his fear had been a self fulfilling prophecy. With Harry, the trend had just become the embodiment of Fate's cruel, killing joke.

Charlie had surrounded himself with walls, and each wall had a name and a face and a story. And through the slurred words and sudden pauses, tonight Bella had heard them all. She'd thought she understood her father, but tonight she'd finally glimpsed the man behind the mask.

He'd balled up his hurt and locked it away, and somehow through all that Charlie had managed to become a man of decency and duty instead of resentment. It was a testimony to the enduring nature of the human spirit. It was a testimony to the blood that ran through Bella's veins.

"I love you, Dad," she muttered inaudibly, knowing that he was beyond hearing. She knew that in the morning they wouldn't talk about it, and that it would never be brought up again, but for what it was worth, she was grateful. And as a restless sleep consumed her, Bella tried to understand how Charlie could function under a burden so much heavier than anything she'd imagined, when she could barely carry on beneath her own.

* * *

_"Wait, stop!" Bella screamed, her breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. Still, she pumped her arms and legs faster, faster. Faster than she knew was safe. Brambles reached up and tore at her ankles, roots sent her crashing to the ground, only for her to get up again and continue the chase._

_But still it was not fast enough. The figure flitted between the trees, always out of reach, always ignoring her desperate pleas. A liquid shadow, it moved black on black against the backdrop of the forest. Each stride was sure, each jump was true. The being moved with an uncanny grace, a lithe stride that never missed a step. It practically flew._

_And yet Bella knew she had to catch her. "Stop," she screamed. "Stop! Alice!" _

_Then, as if by a miracle, the figure did. She froze in a patch of sunlight, filtering through the blackness of the canopy around them. She froze, and turned. _

_It was not Alice._

_It was not her best friend._

_And yet…the woman looked very familiar. Hauntingly familiar. _

"_Who are you?" Bella demanded. The strange woman took a step backwards._

_Bella stepped forward. "What do you want?"_

_The woman stepped back again, into the darkening tree line. A metallic roar emanated from the other side _

"_Why me?" Bella screamed in frustration. She charged forward. The woman's only response was to smile sadly, before she flung herself backwards, through the trees, and into the middle of the highway…_

_A horn blared somewhere in the distance._

_Then she was gone._

_

* * *

_**A/N:**As always, thanks to my beta(s)


	8. Chapter 8

The morning found Charlie drinking coffee so strong the smell burned the inside of Bella's nose when she sniffed cautiously at the pot. He looked surprised when Bella walked into the room wearing the only black dress she owned. It was several years old – purchased when one of her mother's coworkers had died – and the zipper had required some cajoling to get shut. She complimented it with a hideously oversized bow, pinned cockeyed on the back of her skull to hide her bald spot. Not her best ensemble, but not bad for short notice either. She had a feeling the outfit wasn't why Charlie looked so surprised though.

"You coming along?" he finally asked.

"Seems like the thing to do," Bella replied, doing her best to shrug nonchalantly. She dumped the rest of the coffee, afraid it might eat through the pot and the counter right along with it. "I need to pay my respects. And I want to be there for you. I figure I can make myself useful if nothing else."

Charlie grunted in response, but it was a grunt of approval. He drained his coffee, making Bella shudder, and grabbed his keys off the table. "We'd better get going, kid. We don't wanna be late."

They drove the entire way in silence, listening to Johnny Cash on the radio, and gazing out the windows. The previous night's storm had left the morning cool and clear. It seemed Harry would get one last chance to see the sun.

It seemed like cruel irony.

The wake was going to be held outside, in the grassy lot that bordered the Clearwaters' property. However Charlie parked at the Blacks' house instead. "Sue's going to be mobbed enough without us adding to it," he muttered. "We can walk."

Jake was standing in his bedroom, toothbrush poking out of his mouth, trying desperately to knot his tie in the reflection of the window. He grinned ruefully (and lopsidedly) when Bella knocked on his doorframe. "'Ay, nife bow."

"You should talk," Bella shot back. His suit was in even worse shape that Charlie's, wrinkled, with the cuffs of his pants falling well above his ankle.

""Air 'oint," he conceded, wiping a trickle of toothpaste that escaped while he was speaking. He brushed past her and Bella heard water running down the hall. Jake emerged toothbrush-free a moment later. "I'm glad you're here," he said seriously. "I think…it'll make things easier. For Charlie, that is. How's he doing, by the way?" He went back to the window and resumed making a mess of his too-short tie.

"He's had about four cups of coffee, strong enough to burn the hair out of your nose," she told him, watching his fumbling with amusement. "But I think its helping. Was Billy--"

"Yeah, he was in pretty bad shape too. I don't know what they got into last night, but it must have been good stuff. Harry would've been proud."

"Which was probably the point," Bella added. "When did we become the mature and responsible ones in the family?" Jake shrugged and tried to untangle another botched knot. "Okay, I'm sorry, but watching you try to do this is painful…" Bella crossed the room and shoved his hands away. With ease she began to tie a perfect square knot as Jacob watched with his mouth hanging open.

"You don't have any brothers, and before a few months ago, you hadn't lived with your Dad for years. Where, _exactly_, did you learn how to tie a men's tie?" he demanded in awe, as Bella stepped back to admire her handiwork.

"I, uh," she muttered in embarrassment. "I was in the band in middle school. We all had to wear these horrible red ties with black music notes as part of our performance uniforms. I got pretty good at doing this."

"Wow," Jake murmured with a shake of his head. "That's both incredibly hot and incredibly dorky all at the same time."

Bella felt a hot blush rise in her cheeks, accompanied by a flicker of distant pain, the memory of warm hands… "We should go," she said softly.

"Right." The smile vanished from Jake's face too. The bubble had burst on their reprieve, and all the pain they'd been holding at bay rushed in to fill the void. "Sure…"

* * *

A woman was waiting for them in the kitchen, standing in the doorway with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

"Rach!" Jake shouted when she came into view. He pushed past Bella and charged into the room. "I thought you weren't coming home."

"I moved my schedule around," Rachel Black explained, her voice softer and strangely more melodic than Bella remembered. Of course, last time they'd met they'd both been children. A lot had changed. "I wanted to be here for this."

"I'm glad you came," Jake replied quietly, his voice flooded with relief. And in response his sister held out her arms. Despite the fact that he now stood a head taller than her, Jacob was every bit her little brother as he tumbled into her embrace.

Rachel was a bustle of calm and composure, a brilliant dichotomy. The moment she arrived the static and tension seemed to leave the air. With quiet hands she smoothed the wrinkles in Jacob's suit, and soothed whatever nervous energy had sent him flying to Bella's door the other night. Even though she'd only been in the house five minutes, it was like Rachel inherently knew what was going on, what was needed of her. Down to the tiniest details – the dishes to be cleared and the socks to be found and the tears to be wiped away discreetly. With a sinking feeling Bella realized it was because she had done this once before.

Rachel and Jacob…they both had.

Sitting in the kitchen with them both, watching the two siblings together, Bella felt as though she were intruding on an intensely private and intimate moment. She was an interloper, someone come to gawk at the Black family pain and process. She had no right to be here.

She quietly excused herself to the front porch to wait. Her own home was plagued by enough ghosts as it was. Bella didn't need to be haunted by anyone else's.

* * *

The setting looked more fitting for a picnic than a funeral, when both the Blacks and the Swans finally arrived. The field was covered with a myriad of mismatched chairs, all aligned in rows, facing a makeshift platform…and a casket. Those not in attendance had sent flowers, wreathes and bundles that now surrounded Harry where he lay. An army of people milled about, some sitting, some standing in the back – it was clear there would not be enough chairs for all of them.

Nobody seemed to mind.

Bella tried her best not to look at anyone as they made their way through the throngs of people. But it was impossible to keep from spotting the eerily familiar faces here and there. Jared, Paul, Collin – they stood out like beacons in the crowd. Their bodies were devoid of the monsters Bella once watched them struggle against, but their expressions were still the same.

It was worse with the Clearwaters. Charlie and Billy made their way to Sue's side almost immediately. She was sitting in the first row of seats, flanked on either side by her children. She held Leah and Seth's hands firmly within her own, as if she were afraid she'd lose them too if she let go. She wore a simple, black dress, and had her graying hair pulled into a tight bun. It appeared she was keeping her head up, and the sadness at bay, through nothing but sheer force of will. Not once did she bite back a tear, not once did her chin quiver, or her hands shake. Sue was composed of raw steel as she thanked each person who approached her for coming.

At her side, Leah was a carbon copy of her mother, only a couple years behind. She stared blankly ahead, unflinching, and only acknowledged those around her with nods and soft "hmm's" from between her pursed lips. She seemed determined not to cry, and when it looked as if she would finally break, she'd reach out and clutch at the hand of the large boy sitting beside her.

Sam Uley.

He looked…strange, as a human. His hair was long, like Jake's, and his eyes were wide and bright. Gone were all the serious orders and responsibilities that had once rested on his shoulders. Gone was the guilt of leaving Leah and maiming…

Emily. She was sitting behind Seth, next to the woman who could only be Sue's sister. She was almost impossible to recognize without her scars. Her face was a shining canvas, and held none of the reservations of her cousin. The tears flowed freely down her smooth cheeks as she watched the masses of people processing into their seats.

Bella had to look away. She needed to keep herself in check today, but that overwhelming feeling was beginning to boil up inside her ribcage. She closed herself off to the world until Charlie finally led them to their chairs.

The ceremony was relatively brief. Each member of the tribal council spoke, ending with Billy. When Bella demanded to know why Charlie wasn't going to say anything, he shushed her. "It wouldn't be appropriate here, Bells," he explained softly. "Billy's on the council, and he's speaking for both of us." He said it like it should've been obvious, but his tone implied that he wanted to be up there as well.

Sue said only a few words at the end, thanking everyone for coming to honor her husband, and inviting them back to her home for food. It seemed harsh and unfeeling to Bella at first. But if Sue was anything like Charlie – so controlled, so private – then she'd already said her goodbyes. There was no need to say them again in front of an audience.

Slowly the crowd began to disperse, back in the direction of the house. Harry was carried and placed in the back of a hearse, but he wouldn't be buried until tomorrow. All that was left to do tonight was toast his memory, just like he would've wanted. As she and Charlie walked carefully across the pockmarked grass, Bella kept her eyes squarely focused on her feet.

She was surprised when a pair of brown pumps drifted into view, and she allowed herself to glance up at their owner just briefly. In a sea of black and white, a woman in a brown dress picked her way past Bella, flittering through the crowd with uncanny grace. She paused to allow someone to pass in front of her, and as she did her face turned to the side. Bella could barely see it above the heads of the people around her, but something about her silhouette made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. The line of the jaw and curve of her lips…she knew that face, but from where? She stood on her tiptoes to try and get a better look, but as quickly as she'd come, the woman had disappeared. Bella shuddered as she followed Charlie to the house…

* * *

The kitchen was as proportionally tiny as the house, made smaller still by the sheer amount of bodies pushed inside. Women of every age and shape and size, stirring and squabbling, and turning the cheery room into one full of absolute chaos. Bella ignored their puzzled looks as she shoved her way between the bodies. Once again, Sue was at the center of the chaos, hovering near the sink. Every time she picked up a dish or a spoon it was snatched from her hands, though. Her helpers were leaving her with nothing to do – an intentional kindness that was having the opposite effect. She looked as though she was desperate for anything to distract her from what was going on.

Bella could relate.

"I, uh," she stuttered when Sue finally noticed her, awkwardly standing out in the crowd. "I wanted to know if you needed help with anything, but it looks like there's already too many cooks in the kitchen."

"Hello, dear." A smile devoid of any real warmth flashed briefly over Sue's face. "It would appear so, yes. Thank you for the offer though, and for your dishes. They've come in handy."

In the face of the huge crowd, Bella couldn't imagine her casseroles having that much of an impact. But Sue's poise and grace continued to amaze her. She hadn't been expecting thanks. "I'm just sorry I didn't know you'd be feeding the entire Western coast," she replied. "I'd have made more."

Sue looked over her shoulder and out the tiny window at the throngs of people milling about her lawn. "Harry was very well respected," she explained, as if the crowd was something to be embarrassed about. She raised her hand to gnaw on her thumbnail, a nervous habit. Her hand trembled as she did.

"He was very well loved," Bella replied softly, and Sue whirled to face her. "He was a good man."

Her hands were rock-steady now as Sue grabbed the nearest pitcher and thrust it into Bella's grasp. Whatever vulnerabilities had been there moments ago, they were gone new. Sue Clearwater was in emotional lockdown once more, the rock she felt she needed to be. "Could you put this on the table outside, Isabella? That would be a huge help."

"Of course," Bella said with a nervous smile, getting the impression that she should make herself scarce. "If you need anything else…"

"Thank you," Sue said absently. She'd already gone back to staring at the people outside, come to mourn her husband.

Bella found the nearest empty table and put the pitcher down. She was preparing herself to hover awkwardly against the side of the house, like the forlorn middle-schooler during a slow dance, when she felt a tug on the back of her hair.

Jake, away from his sister, looked very much like the Jake from the night before. He shrugged his hunched shoulders, and tried not to meet her eyes. "Feel up for taking a walk?"

* * *

Once they stepped onto the beach and out of eyeshot, Jake reached over and snatched the bow from her hair, taking a few stray ones with is. "Is this going to be a thing now?" Bella asked sarcastically, massaging her scalp.

"You look better when you're just being yourself," he replied with a shrug, as if it were the most basic notion in the world.

Bella was silently grateful when the rocky beach gave her an excuse to take off her heels. She carried them as they walked, shoulder to shoulder once more, along the familiar stretch of coastline. Jake buried his hands in his pockets and set his eyes on the horizon, but they were distant, lost. His body was here, but his mind was elsewhere. Gently, she bumped against his shoulder.

"You doing okay?"

He blinked a few times and seemed to shake his head, as if he could physically dislodge the thoughts that seemed to be plaguing him. "I don't know," he admitted. He plopped down onto a patch of beach that seemed to be more sand than stone, and gestured for Bella to do the same. "I guess I'm handling it."

Bella folded her legs with great care, and tried to keep the costal winds from blowing her skirt up over her head. In the relatively short amount of time it took her to get situated, Jacob slipped back into his reflective state. This time she made no effort to try and pull him out of it, and for a while the only noise around them was the sound of the waves eating up the beach as the tide rose.

After a while he picked up a stone and lobbed it out into the choppy surf. He reached out, picked up a second one, which he tossed back and forth in his hands. "Seems funny," he said softly, rubbing the smooth stone between his palms. "I came out here last time too…"

Bella didn't have to ask to know what last time he was talking about. Jake's eyes grew distant again, but this time he took Bella along for the ride. "Rebecca was trying to explain to me that Mom wasn't coming home again. I…" he shrugged. "I was eight, I just didn't get it. I mean, I knew she wasn't there, and I knew they were saying she wouldn't be there tomorrow, or the next day. But I didn't get that she'd just…vanished from my life." His eyes grew distant as he stared out into the water. "I didn't get that forever meant…forever."

The second rock skipped out over the water, and disappeared beneath the waves.

"I think Dad thinks that her accident is the reason I like working on cars so much. He thinks that each time I rebuild one, I'm just waiting for her to come skipping home. Like her crash was just something I can fix."

"What do you think?" Bella asked softly.

He was quiet for awhile, and Bella pretended not to notice when he looked away, seemingly focused on brushing the hair from his eyes. "I don't know," he confessed, his voice broken. "When I was younger, maybe that was it. But I know that rebuilding an engine can't raise the dead. It's just, sometimes I feel like…and this is going to sound strange…" he warned.

She leaned in and touched his shoulder gently. "Remember who you're talking to," she reminded him.

Jake reached up and covered her hand with his own, a dark smile in his face. "Good point," he muttered. "It's weird, but sometimes I feel like working in the shop is my own way of connecting with her. It's morbid, I know, but that…was what she was doing when... The last thing my mom ever did wasn't hug me or braid my sister's hair or kiss my dad. The last thing she ever touched was her car, so…" He shrugged again. "I said it was weird."

"I don't think it's weird," Bella said. "I think it's amazing – what you've faced, what you've overcome." Death was supposed to be a mournful occasion, and Harry's was no different. But since it had taken place, the experience had done nothing but show Bella the hidden strength in everyone around her. Charlie, Sue, Jacob…she wasn't the only one walking around with a piece of her soul missing. But they had all managed to be so strong, so relentless in their pursuit of life. It was, if nothing else, inspiring. She ached for the people in her life who were hurting. But their pain also gave her hope. Hope that maybe, deep down, she had that kind of strength inside her.

Hope that maybe she could find a way to go on too.

Her reprieve was interrupted by the sound of Jacob laughing, of all things. It wasn't his usual, boisterous outcry, but his shoulder jumped beneath her hand and he chuckled despite himself. "Well, I'm so glad I have the crazy girl's vote of confidence," he finally said.

Bella pinched his shoulder and wormed out of his grasp. "Guess that just means you're crazy too," she teased.

"Or maybe you're contagious." He took her bow out of his pocket and surrendered it back to her. "Here, you'd better take this. I don't want to come into contact with any more of your mind herpes. It might--"

He stopped suddenly, looking curiously over Bella's shoulder, back the way they'd come. A few yards back a narrow path cut out of the forest and onto the beach, and someone was pounding through it noisily. A split second later a branch pushed aside and Emily Young emerged, looking flushed and yet still absolutely beautiful. She straightened her dress and proceeded up the beach and back towards the house, her heels giving her no problem on the rocky terrain.

"That's…kinda weird," Jake said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Stop staring," Bella hissed at him, though Emily seemed unaware of their presence as she followed the curve of the beach and disappeared from view. "She probably just needed a moment to herself," she said with a shrug, remembering how torn up the girl had been earlier at the funeral. "It's not that different from what we're doing."

"I guess," he conceded, the brief laughter quickly fading from his voice. The somber expression returned, but Bella wasn't worried. She'd seen it in his eyes moments earlier; Jacob would be okay. Eventually. "Sorry, I don't know why I'm so jumpy right now. It's just…I don't know, too much caffeine, too little sleep. I don't think--"

"Its fine," Bella assured him. "You know, no one expects anything from you today. You know that, right?" He only responded by looking at her quizzically. "You don't owe anyone a brave face," she explained.

A smile crossed his lips, but it was a twisted paroxysm of his usual expression – dark and sad and fleeting. "Yeah I do," he murmured. "I owe it to my Dad…I owe it to Sue…I owe it to the people around me to be someone they can count on. So far I've done a pretty shitty job…"

"No, you haven't," Bella said adamantly. But Jake turned away from her again, so she grabbed his face and turned it back before he could protest. "You've done fine, Jake. You're a good son and a good friend and that's all anyone can ask of you. Your…" she hesitated. "Your mother would be proud. You understand?"

He appeared too surprised by Bella's actions to respond, so he just nodded against her palm.

"Good." She pulled away from him, awkwardly. "Don't forget it either."

"Bella, I--" he started to say, when another rustling caught their attention. This time they both whirled around and watched as Sam Uley emerged from the narrow trail. He paused on the beach, running his fingers through his long hair, as though he were trying to untangle it. In the middle of the process he froze and turned. Shock registered briefly on his face when he realized he had an audience, but he recovered his composure quickly. He waved lightly at Bella and Jake, then ambled back down the beach in the direction of the Clearwater house. He seemed to be moving a little faster than normal.

"Okay," Bella murmured when he was out of earshot. "Now _that_ was weird. You don't think they were…"

Beside her Jake was practically seething. "Un-fucking-believable," he hissed under his breath. "It's a fucking funeral and he…" With a groan, he got to his feet and started up the beach.

"Where are you going?" Bella demanded, scrambling after him.

"You know all that stuff you said, about me being a good friend and all…" He let the sentence hang, and brushed the sand off his too-short pants as he went. "You should probably wait here, I'll be right back. I just have to go have a talk with someone first."

Jake broke into a trot and quickly disappeared up the beach as well, leaving Bella alone…

…but not as alone as she'd thought. Farther down the beach than she and Jake had gone, she could just barely make out a figure. Too far away to see its face clearly, it appeared to be climbing up the rocky path from the beach, the one that wound its way up to the grassy banks that edged out to the cliffs. Despite the fading light, the longer Bella watched the figure, the more certain she became that it was wearing a brown dress.

It wasn't a coincidence – Bella has stopped believing in those long ago. The strange woman looked too familiar, just like…like the woman in her dream. With a start Bella realized that's where she knew her face from. It was just too convenient that she'd seen the woman in her head the night before. Too convenient for her to appear just after Jake had gone.

It was too convenient to be a coincidence.

The smart thing to do would have been to wait for Jacob. But Bella had done nothing but wait since waking up. Waiting for the world to make sense again, waiting to get better. She was tired of waiting – she was going to get answers.

And this woman was going to give them to her. She left behind her shoes, and took off down the beach as fast as her legs would carry her. Bella wasn't worried about losing her.

After all, she already knew where they were going.

It took half a mile for Bella to catch up to the woman. She was walking against the tree line, heading away from the beach and the cliffs and back into town.

"Hey!" Bella shouted, as she finally came into view. "Wait!" Not her most eloquent, but what does one say to the person they think they saw in a dream? Bella expected the woman to whirl about and confront her, attack her, anything. Instead all she did was turn and begin walking into the undergrowth and the woods beyond.

"Stop!" Bella shouted, but without hesitation she followed her into the forest. The brambles and sticks tore at her bare feet, but walking would have been just as difficult with her fancy shoes. She pushed aside a thick branch and looked for the woman behind it…and saw nothing. Bella began to panic, looking in every direction, between the trees and vines and miles of green. But it was as if the woman had vanished into thin air.

"Hello?" She ran her hands through her hair, fighting the frustration that was welling up inside her. She couldn't have gone far! Bella ventured deeper into the green, walking softly and listening with all her might. Suddenly – movement to her left! The woman was running, back the way she'd come, back towards the cliffs.

And Bella was tearing after her. She knew it was foolish and she knew it was crazy and she knew that somewhere, in the back of her mind, that should all matter. But it didn't.

Nothing mattered right now, because Bella kicked up her heels and was flying across the grass and sticks and leaves. Nothing mattered because Bella was tired of guessing and waking up at night and feeling like she couldn't trust her own senses or mind anymore. Nothing mattered because Bella wanted answers.

And she was certain the woman running ahead of her had them.

She ignored the sting of the rocks as they bit into the soft flesh of her feet. By some miracle she'd managed to stay on feet. Rarely could Bella run more than a few steps without tripping over something. She prayed with each pump of her arms that today would be one of those rare days.

But even on her feet and balanced, her prey was faster. She danced in and out of the brush, seemingly impervious to the branches and thorns. The world was beginning to get lighter around them now as the trees thinned, and Bella glanced away from her folly just long enough to see that the edge of the world lay before them.

The face of the cliffs.

Her lungs were burning, along with her legs. Screaming, pounding, begging for more oxygen. Bella pushed the pain to the back of her mind. All she could see, all she could comprehend was that she had to catch this woman before gravity caught them both.

The gap between them closed.

The gap between the woman and the cliff closed faster.

"Bella!"

She was beyond hearing now.

She was beyond pain.

"Bella, stop!"

Her life was nothing but pain, but today it was going to stop. It was going to end. Bella was going to solve her own problems, one way or another.

Fifteen feet was all that separated them now, and the distance shrank readily as the woman skidded to a stop at the edge of the precipice. Black hair blowing in the wind, she turned to look over her shoulder at Bella, a mournful expression marring her familiar face.

Putting on a last, desperate burst of speed, Bella lunged, arms outstretched. But they missed their mark as the woman took a single step forward, and plunged over the edge, out of sight.

"Bella! NO!"

But it was too late, she was moving too fast. Bella felt herself pitch forward, and glanced down to see the rocky coast waiting to catch her below.

"BELLA!"

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry to leave you guys with a cliffhanger (literally) but it's really more fun that way. Just wanted to give everyone a heads-up: I'm posting this about 12 hours before I board a plane for a much needed (and frankly, well deserved) vacation. So I'll pretty much be incommunicado for a week, since I'm not bringing my laptop. That being said, I'll be a little slow in replying to reviews. Also, this may be the last update for a little while, since the moment I get back home again I have to move out to my tiny (roommate-free) apartment in bufu before law school starts again. Be patient with me, I promise I won't abandon the story or anything – I just might be waylaid by chaos for a while. Thanks for being such kick ass readers!

And, as always, thanks to Blueandblack for being a badass beta.


	9. Chapter 9

It's been said that when you look death in the eye, and face your own mortality, time seems to slow. That everything suddenly becomes clear. That your life flashes before your eyes.

But as Bella Swan learned, that was all complete and utter crap. Too little too late she tried desperately to slow her forward momentum. But she was moving too fast and she felt gravity begin to take hold as her last, desperate lunge began to carry her headfirst over the edge. She tried to scream, to cry out, to do _something_. But there wasn't enough air in her lungs. Below her the surf reached up, only to slam against the rocks that jutted from the water in every conceivable direction.

It was in that split second of abject horror that Bella realized this wasn't _her_ cliff. This wasn't just going to hurt…this was going to kill her.

And it was in that moment of realization that something hit her. Literally. It caught her just behind the knees and she buckled under the weight. Her forward momentum was instantly redirected into the rocky ground and she felt something, someone, pin her legs to the ground. Relief, the kind that comes with putting off your own demise for a later date, flooded her system. But it was short lived as she realized that her upper body, still hanging over the precipice, was now careening widely toward the rock wall. She tried to put up her hands or cover her face, but it was too late.

She was too stunned to cry out as she felt the sharp rocks bite into the side of her face. The impact was fleeting, as her rescuer's strong hands grabbed the back of her dress and hauled the rest of her back onto solid ground. They collapsed in a heap, sweaty and panting, and (in Bella's case) bleeding profusely.

He looked like a walking grass stain, the whole front of his suit streaked with green from where he'd made a mad dive to save her life. His perfectly executed football tackle to the back of her legs had been all that stood between Bella Swan and her demise. She tried to open her mouth to smile at him but found she lacked the air or the energy to do anything but lie there and quiver. For a moment they both sat in silence as they contemplated their own mortality.

"Bella," Embry said breathlessly. His face was twisted up in a combination of utter relief and raw anger. "You want to tell me what the hell just happened?"

"I…I-" she stuttered, trying to form a complete sentence. But it was as if the impact against the cliff had rattled her brains. She couldn't make the pieces come together. Her head was a mess of stray thoughts and pieces of information.

Jake.

Cliff.

Forest.

Woman.

"OhmyGod," Bella exhaled in a rush, the entire situation rushing back at her with sudden clarity. She tried to climb to her feet, only to realize they were shaking and swaying too wildly to accomplish that. Frantically then she crawled back towards the cliff's edge, much to Embry's abject horror.

"Bella, don't!" he shouted, and she felt one of his hands latch onto her ankle.

"We have to go after her, Embry!" She tried to shake him loose but he held her fast.

"After who?" he demanded to know, the ire rising in his voice.

She stopped struggling. "The woman…she was running in front of me. I was trying to chase her down…" Bella looked at him over her shoulder. "You didn't…" she hesitated, afraid to know the answer. Afraid what it would mean for her. "You didn't see her?"

"All I saw was you running like your life depended on it."

It did.

Inside Bella some part of herself _screamed_ that it did. That it was all there on the cusp, that if only she'd been fast enough or strong enough to brave enough to have claimed it she could have been whole again. But now the answers were drifting with the tide and her punishment was to be forever trapped here, a half person living a half life full of questions without answers.

She kicked at Embry's hand again and managed to throw him off, scrambling for the cliff's edge. She wasn't careful as she peered over the side in desperation. She wanted to, _needed to_, see something. Anything. Anything to confirm that the woman was real, that Embry just didn't see her, that she had taunted Bella before hurling herself off into the abyss. But there was nothing below but the rocks and the answering crash of the waves upon them.

No swimming figure fading into the distance.

No floating body.

No blood.

"No, no, no, no, no…." The chant emerged from her lips without conscious thought. With each second it increased in volume and pitch and frequency until she was repeating it like a prayer.

"Bella." Embry touched her shoulder, a note of panic rising in his voice. "Bella, we have to go. C'mon, no one could've survived that fall. Bella…"

But she was deaf to him, just like before. Just like when she'd been chasing a figment of her imagination and he'd been charging after her.

"No, no, no, no, no…" He tried to pull her away from the edge, but she resisted. Waiting in vain, waiting for some sign…but none came.

And, with a dull twang, something inside Bella simply snapped. All the frustration and anger and loss boiled and bubbled and exploded. She screamed. Screamed until it felt like the blood was pooling behind her eyes, screamed until it felt like her lungs would erupt, screamed until there was nothing left inside. Just that hollow, echoing feeling of watching your life slip through your fingers without the strength left to close them.

It echoed out over the water and, as it faded, was consumed by the waves of the Olympic Peninsula. Panting, Bella absently wiped at the blood trickling down her chin.

"Feel better?" Embry mustered up the courage to ask. He hovered around her in a strange orbit, as if afraid that touching her would set off another uncontrollable response.

She barked a bitter laugh in reply. There was no better for her, she was learning. No relief, no reprieve.

Save for one.

"Where's Jake?" she murmured.

* * *

Bella's leg throbbed where Embry had tackled her and, as pissed as he might be, he wasn't mean enough to make her hobble alone. She leaned on his arm as they made their way back down the beach. They paused their awkward procession long enough to let Bella collect her shoes, one of which she promptly broke the heel off of against a sharp rock. She didn't want Charlie asking a lot of questions later on and her own clumsy nature was the perfect scapegoat. The cuts on her cheek had stopped bleeding as profusely as before and, despite Embry's protests, she wet her hands in the surf and tried to wash the dried rivers from her face. The salt burned like fire against her raw skin but for once she relished the pain. Like the throbbing in her head, it reminded her of what was real and what wasn't.

She tried not to let it scare her too much that she was beginning to have trouble telling the difference.

They found Jake and Quil sitting on the back step of the Clearwater's house. Quil looked too somber for his own good as he appeared to be lecturing Jake, who was scowling and holding a bag of frozen peas against the right half of his face. His scowl only deepened further when Bella and Embry drifted into view.

"What the hell happened to you two?" he demanded, taking in the state of their clothing and Bella's battered face. He leapt to his feet only to have Quil force him back down. He lost his grip on his makeshift ice pack momentarily, giving Bella a glimpse of his right eye, which was quickly swelling shut.

"I could ask you the same thing," Bella replied. "Jesus, Jake, I thought you were going to talk to Sam, not attack him."

"Hey, I didn't throw the first punch," he barked defensively, wincing as though simply opening his mouth was painful. Quil held him down as he made another attempt to get to his feet.

"No, but you sure as hell threw the second," he muttered, forcing the frozen produce back over Jake's eye. It would have been hysterically maternal under any other circumstances. "Because that's what everyone needed today, to watch me pull you and Sam Uley off one another at a funeral."

Embry groaned inwardly. "Well that's just…super." He plopped down next to Jake on the rickety staircase. "I'm fine, by the way," his tone uncharacteristically sarcastic, throwing up his hands as though he were fending off the worried inquires of his buddies. "Thanks for asking."

"What are _you_ bitching about, now?" Quil's tolerance for the entire situation was clearly waning.

"Oh, only that I had to chase Bella down to keep her from running headfirst off a cliff, almost killing us both in the process." He shrugged in exaggeration. "You know, the usual."

The confusion and distress in Bella's mind was beginning to give way to a slow boiling anger. "It was an accident," she hissed under her breath.

"You accidentally tried to hurl yourself off a cliff?" Quil asked, looking at her as though the whole thing might be nothing more than an elaborate joke. "How does that happen accidentally? I mean, cliffs are usually hard to miss…"

The conversation was quickly beginning to get away from her. "No, it-- I--" she stammered, looking at Jake for help. "There was this woman and I was just trying to--"

"What woman?" Jake finally interrupted, looking back and forth between her and Embry. "When? What the hell happened? Bella, I only left you alone for five minutes!"

It wasn't exactly the reassuring response she'd been hoping for. "I…can you give us a minute?" she demanded, glaring back and forth between Quil and Embry. Jake was the only one who knew about…who knew. On top of everything else that had already happened, this wasn't something she wanted to discuss in front of an audience.

Unfortunately she wasn't going to get off that easily. "No," Embry told her calmly. "As the one you almost took with you, I think I'm entitled to know what the hell is going on."

Jake dodged Quil and abandoned his peas, walking over to examine Bella's face, despite the fact that his own was swollen and grossly misshapen. "Just tell me what happened," he said.

"I saw her," she told him, trying to ignore the audience behind them. "Right after you left, I saw this woman walking up on the ridge and -- Jake I know this sounds crazy, but I swear she was the woman from my dream."

"I – wait, what dream?"

Bella realized she was getting ahead of herself. "This dream I had last night. Well, twice now, but last night it was definitely her. Then I thought I saw her today at the ceremony but I couldn't be sure. But then, as soon as you left, there she was and I knew it was too perfectly timed to be a coincidence so I followed her a--"

"You followed this complete stranger into the woods?" Quil interjected. "Not cool, Bella. Whatever happened to 'stranger danger?'"

"Shut up," she snapped at him. He was irrelevant, and so was Embry – it didn't matter what they thought. Jake would understand that something was going on, something bigger than both of them. He'd help her figure out what was happening. "I caught up to her but then she saw me and started running and I chased her back towards the cliffs. But she jumped before I could catch her and--"

"Someone went over the side?" Jake turned to glare at Embry. "Did you tell anyone that there might be someone in the water?"

Embry threw up his hands in exasperation. "Dude, you're not listening to me. There was no one else there! No one willingly jumps from the south face into that part of the bay. I followed her for a good three hundred yards – if it was as close as Bella says, I'd have seen her. There was no woman."

"Maybe you just weren't looking hard enough," Bella stammered, looking for something, anything that might cement her mystery woman's existence. "Maybe the sun was in your eyes, maybe you were too focused trying to catch me to see her." She turned back to look at Jake, her eyes pleading with him to listen.

He looked back at her, helplessly. "I…"

"Listen," Embry said, coming up beside her now. The hostility and the frustration had burned out of his voice. Now it just sounded heavy, sad. "Bella, no one jumps from that peak because there's a riptide there. It throws everything that goes over the edge straight back into the rocks. It doesn't matter if you're alive when you hit the water – no one makes it to the surface that way. If, and this is a big if, there really was a strange woman, and she really had gone into the water there…"

"You'd have seen the body," Jake finished, and all three boys nodded in agreement. "Every couple years some kid comes down from Wash U looking for thrills, winds up dead. Wouldn't be the first time it's happened…Bella, I'm so sorry…"

"No." She shook her head vehemently. There had to be some twist, some exception in this case. There always was – her life was one big, unexpected plot loop. She couldn't be chasing shadows…she couldn't accept that it was just some…_fucked up_ glitch in her gray matter.

She refused to.

"You don't understand," she told Jake, gesturing wildly with her hands – a nervous habit. "You must be confused about the location or maybe the tide changed or something. But I know she was there. She looked at me, Jake. I know she knew who I was. She knows what happened to me, she knows that something's not right. Otherwise how would I have seen her in my dreams? How would I have known it was going to happen?!"

"Bella, stop!" he told her loudly, grabbing both his flailing wrists in his hands.

"I'm sorry," she panted, trying to get her emotions under control. "I'm just freaking out now because something's not right, Jake. I just _know_ it and--"

"No, Bella," he interrupted her again, his voice softer again. "No, I mean this has to stop. This whole thing…Bella, it's time to be done." He looked haggard as he said it, exhausted.

Tired of dealing with her.

Bella felt her mouth drop open. "But I thought…I thought you of all people would believe me..." She couldn't believe this was happening. Not now, not from Jake. Behind him Quil and Embry both regarded her with the same mix of pity. It was too much for her to take.

"Bella, you're seeing things that aren't real. Maybe it's time to talk to someone," Jake murmured. "Someone who can do more than I can. But…you can't keep doing this to yourself. You're going to get hurt!"

She ripped her hands from his grasp. "This is all your fault," she murmured bitterly, her voice a harsh whisper.

"Mine?" he demanded, evidently surprised by the accusation. "How is this my fault, exactly? I didn't hit you with a truck!"

The tight ball of hurt, knotted in her throat, was quickly being overcome by a rising tide of anger. "No, but you're the one who told me the best thing to do was to lie to my shrink!"

"Yeah, that was before you almost got yourself killed, Bella. Jesus, I'm only saying this 'cause I don't want to see you get hurt--"

"Bullshit," she screeched back. "You're only saying it 'cause you're tired of dealing with the crazy girl. Well, don't bother. I don't need your misplaced concern. This right here? This is me walking out of your life." She whirled around to leave in a huff, but felt her ankle roll mid-turn. Off balanced, she hit the ground on her hands and knees, hot tears of anger and embarrassment burning in the corners of her eyes. She didn't want him to see her cry.

She stumbled back to her feet, throwing off Jake's hand when she felt him grab her elbow. "Don't touch me," she hissed, straightening her dress. "You've already done enough."

"Fine," he shot back. "You know what, I'm sorry the truth hurts, Bella."

"Well, I'm sorry that you're such a jerk! You used to be a nice guy!" She regretted the words the minute they were out of her mouth, but Jake caught them.

"When, three weeks ago? Or two years ago, Bella. Which is it?" She turned to glare at him only to find him mirroring her injured expression.

It took all her will to keep her voice from cracking. "The Jake I used to know," was all she said.

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not him," Jake hissed back, his swollen face making him look a bit like an irate eggplant. "I'm sorry I'm not a werewolf, I'm sorry there's no vampires, and I'm sorry I'm not the perfect guy you dreamed up!"

Before Bella could think up something crushing to say in reply all four of them jumped as a loud THUMP echoed behind them. Sue was standing on the narrow stairs, the screen door swinging against the frame behind her. She was holding an icepack in her hands, obviously come to reclaim her peas. But she wasn't Jake she was staring at, mouth slightly agape. It was Bella. The tightly controlled grief was temporarily gone from her face, replaced with something more…confused, disbelieving. She stared liked Bella was a foreign species, something she'd only just discovered, and Bella blanched under her gaze.

"Uh, sorry, Sue," Quil finally said, interrupting the awkward silence building between the two parties. "We didn't mean to be so noisy, just blowing off steam…" He thrust the abandoned pea bag back into her hand, taking the ice from her. She hardly seemed to notice.

"You should go," she told the group in a strangely monotone voice, still wearing the same, perturbed expression. "Jake, go home before you get into any more trouble. Bella, you should probably find Charlie."

"Gladly," Bella said bitterly, as eager to be away from Jake as she was to escape Sue's penetrating stare. She met the her eyes one more time as she walked away, and for a moment felt as though Sue was looking into the very core of her being. She shivered as the goose bumps traveled up her arms.

"Bella, wait…" Jake started to say to her retreating backside. She waved at him over her shoulder without stopping.

"Go home, Jake," she said, repeating Sue's advice. But he refused to move, and Bella left him standing there.

Charlie was nursing a beer on the front lawn, a beer that he practically spit out all over his suit when his daughter came into view. "What happened?" he demanded, turning her face to the side to look at the raw, red marks carved into her skin. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she brushed him off, trying to seem relaxed about the whole thing. She wasn't up for an inquisition tonight. "I had a 'me' moment walking on the beach and kinda did a face plant." She held up her busted heel as evidence.

Charlie seemed to relax a little seeing her damaged shoe. After all, it's not like it was the first time she'd tripped and injured herself. "Does it hurt a lot? We can swing by the hospital if you w--"

"Honestly," she interrupted him. "I think I'd just like to go home."

"Yeah," he agreed, before slipping into the house to grab his coat and to say goodbye to Sue.

Both of them were silent on the ride home: Charlie, lost in his grief; Bella, lost in a sea of much different emotions. That merciless fear was breathing down her neck again, the one reminding her that she was damaged, that she was crazy, that she couldn't hide it forever. But even worse than that were Jake's words, the way he looked at her. He never looked her like that, like she wasn't normal. His face swam before her eyes and, for the first time in almost a month, that phantom ache burned dully behind her ribs.

* * *

After waking up in the hospital to a world destroyed, Bella had dug a hole and climbed inside, content to wait out the end of the world, or the end of her days – whichever came first.

The world after Edward held no magic anymore, no love, no warmth, no forgiveness. What purpose was there for her when beauty and life and creation had faded into grayscale? So she'd hidden herself away.

Or so she'd thought.

In reality, it wasn't until she lost Jacob, and hit rock bottom again, that Bella realized she'd been trying to claw her way out.

In between the dreams and the otherwise sleepless nights, between the hours of mindless homework and housework she used to stay occupied, Bella's mind was awash with conflicting emotions: _It's all Jake's fault. I almost got his friend killed. He should've defended me in front of the guys. He was only being honest. He didn't have to snap at me. I screamed at him first. He'd just lost Harry. I'd just lost my mind. He'll never forgive me. I don't want to forgive him. He was wrong._

_He had it coming._

_I was wrong._

_I had it coming, too._

They all churned and swirled together, blurring into the same aching thought: _I miss him. _But, in the end, she always wound up with the phone in her hand, too afraid to push the buttons.

* * *

The days drifted together, each feeling more inexorably long than the next. Bella counted the hours, and felt the pull of a similar loss…and that urge to let go that went with it. She might be forced to live, but that didn't mean she had to exist.

Bella watched her father with the same disconnected quality she used in staring out the window each night. There was something familiar in his empty gestures and the way he seemed to only be going through the motions. Something haunting in his glassy eyes and the muted television set that played on a loop in his bedroom.

Bella had worn that face before.

She'd lived that existence.

She'd felt that emptiness when someone who is such a large part of your life is suddenly ripped from it, leaving you bleeding and confused and riddled with holes.

She'd once…well no, she hadn't actually lost them, but it was that kind of pain that had sent her retreating into the depths of her mind, only to reemerge to find that months had gone by, and that the pain had not faded with time as promised.

It was like watching a car crash – knowing what's going to happen and that the end results are going to be horrible, but that you're unable to do anything to change the inevitable.

And of course it was inevitable – after all, she was so much like her father.

So Bella watched. She watched him look at the clock in the morning like it wasn't worth the trouble to go to the station. Then she watched him groan, and throw on his jacket, and go anyway. She watched him into the fridge for another beer only to stop, and draw his hand out empty.

And when he didn't think she could see, Bella watched Charlie pick up the phone and dial half of Renee's number before taking a deep breath and putting it back down in the cradle.

And by the end of the week it became clear to Bella: she and her father might be so much alike, but he was succeeding where she had failed. He was moving on.

Bella was standing still.

* * *

The phone shook in her hands as Bella dialed, determination outlined on her face. It was going to be different this time, she vowed.

She was going make sure of it.

The phone rang a single time before it clicked straight to voicemail. "Hi, you've reached Angela's phone. I'm not here right now, probably because I'm off doing something exciting…that is, if you consider putting the paper to bed on a Thursday night exciting. And if you're one of the few people who does find that exciting, you're probably stuck here with me and therefore not calling. Anyway, leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Oh, and if this is James or John, call Mom. If someone is bleeding, call 911 and then call Mom. Thanks!"

"Um, hi, Angela," Bella stammered into the kitchen phone, her face squinched up in discomfiture. She wasn't even face to face with someone and she could still barely string the words together. "It's Bella. Uh, I mean Bella Swan, and I just…wanted to see how you were doing. So…yeah, bye."

She was still alone. Alone, and trying as best she could to overlook the fact that she might be crazy. But some tiny part of her felt that much stronger for the effort. It was stupid and foolish that such a thing as exhibiting the most baseline of social skills could make Bella feel proud, but she did. Power has a way of making that happen. And Bella realized that in a life where she had always felt powerless, the one thing she had the power to do was to learn from her own mistakes – real or imaginary as they may be. She smiled to herself as she got into bed that night, just to prove to herself that she still knew how.

Zombies can't smile.

* * *

_Emily paced about her tiny kitchen, making tea while she talked on the phone. A kettle whistled on the stove._

"_What did you say?" she practically shouted into the receiver, pinning the phone between her shoulder and cheek while she poured. "Bella? I didn't get that!"_

_Bella looked around the kitchen nervously. Across the table from her Leah sat, filing her nails. "Um…Emily, I'm right here. You don't have to shout."_

_Emily placed a cup of tea in front of her with a sweet smile. "What did you say?" she screamed into the phone in response. "Bella, I can barely hear you."_

"_I'm right here!" Bella waved her hands back and forth in front of Emily's face, but Emily took no notice. "Hello?!"_

"_I can't understand you!" Emily screamed back into the phone, depositing the kettle in the sink, and going about her tasks. "I must have a bad connection!" _

"_But I…I don't…" Bella slumped back in her chair in defeat._

"_She can't hear you," Leah murmured darkly from across the table. "There's too much interference. That's just the way it works." She held out her hand and examined her freshly filed nails._

_They were all sharpened to wicked points. Clawlike. _

"_But I'm sitting right here," Bella protested. _

_Leah laughed darkly and rose to her feet. "It doesn't matter, Bella. All she can hear is herself. If you really want to get a message across, you're going to have to send it a different way."_

_But before Bella could ask her to be a little less cryptic, before she could even protest, Leah raised her clawed hand as high as she could, and raked it across Emily's perfect face._

_There was a scream and a splash of crimson._

_The phone clattered to the floor._

_

* * *

_

**A/N: **I was going to post this at the beginning, but I figured that after what I put you through it wouldn't be fair to make you guys wait any longer to get to the actual story ;) I want to take a second to thank you all for your patience. I never intended to leave you guys hanging for so long, but I'm afraid that in the rush of the move and then law school this story just got pushed aside for a while. But I'm back now, officially moved in, and writing consistently. My updates may not be as frequent as they were during the summer, but baring some sort of natural disaster I won't be abandoning this story (so those of you who PM-ed me, never fear.) I also want to take a moment to extend a huge THANK YOU to CeCi and Sarah for being awesome betas, for letting me bounce ideas off them, and for really helping me get back on track. You guys are great!


	10. Chapter 10

"Dad?"

Charlie froze mid-step, a second before he could pull the front door closed behind him. "I thought you were still asleep," he said sheepishly, as if he'd been caught sneaking out.

Bella shook her head sadly and shifted her overloaded backpack from one shoulder to the other. "No, I've been up for a while now." She didn't go into detail. Her father didn't need to know that she'd been up since 4:48 that morning, that she'd already showered, done her hair, and reorganized her bookcase (by color this time). He'd already wasted enough hours worrying about her, and there were other people that needed him now. "You going to see Sue?"

"Yeah, we're meeting with someone from billing at the hospital. I'm pretty sure they're jerking her around – thought the sight of the badge might keep 'em on the straight and narrow." Secretly Bella thought that Sue was a hundred times more intimidating than her soft spoken father ever could be. She thought of her last encounter with the woman and gave an involuntary shudder. "You looked like you're packed. Going somewhere?" Charlie asked, dragging her focus back to the present.

Bella shrugged again. "I was actually hoping I could tag along with you…" she said cautiously.

For the first time all week Charlie genuinely smiled, a soft slow grin that she could recall from some of her earliest memories. "I was starting to think you were never going to ask." He turned sideways and gestured her through the door, pulling it shut tightly behind them.

* * *

Standing on the edge of the Black's property, Bella began to feel physically ill. Each step she took towards the garage sent her stomach churning, and the ground beneath her reeling. She had said things without thought. Were there words enough to fix the damage they had done?

Did she even want to?

She rounded the bushes that would lead her back towards the garage, and almost impaled herself on the front tire of a mountain bike.

"Crap!" she stumbled out of the way, tripping in the process and falling squarely on her behind. A brown hand reached out to help her up.

"Okay there, crazy-girl?" Quil asked, with a grin.

Bella raised an eyebrow at her new nickname. "So I've been upgraded from coma-girl, huh?" Reluctantly she took his hand.

He hauled her to her feet with a laugh. "Definitely," he said. "I think this has a better ring to it. Don't you?"

"At least it'll always be a good ice breaker at parties," she muttered bitterly, but Quil's teasing today seemed to be all in good fun.

"That's the spirit!" he crowed, slapping her on the back. The smile stayed planted on his face, but his eyes took on a serious quality. "How're you feeling?"

Bella figured he wasn't asking about her head. "I'm…okay," she said with as much confidence as she could muster. "I'm working on figuring some things out, stuff I hadn't really dealt with since the accident. But yeah, I'm okay. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry about the other day."

He waved her apology off dismissively. "Don't worry about it. It was a bad day all around. You just made it a little more interesting, that's all." There was a touch of humor in his voice. "If you ask me, Harry would've approved of all the excitement. Besides, Jake could use someone to keep him on his toes. He's such an old fart sometimes."

"How is he?" Bella asked, before she could stop herself. She would never expect Quil to spill secrets on his friend or anything…

"He's a pain in my ass, that's what he is," Quil said without hesitation. "He's been moping around this garage all week. Go make up with him so we can all move on already. Jeez!"

Bella felt the knots in her stomach untangle just a bit. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good," he said, pushing his bike back towards the road. "'Cause otherwise I might have to take matters into my own hands. And believe me, nobody wants that." He laughed at his own joke, riding away.

But Bella was grateful for the heads up; it was nice to know that Jake was suffering as much as she was. Maybe this wouldn't be as much of a disaster as she'd thought. Maybe…

Maybe there was something left to save.

Instinctively, she took her hat off before she even reached the old garage door, knowing full well he'd just take it off anyways. She was literally coming to him hat in hand – the least he could do was hear her out.

She lurked in the doorway a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness inside. As the room grew clearer around her, the only part of Jake that she could see were his feet sticking out from beneath her truck. She knocked on the wooden doorframe to get his attention.

In a huff he rolled out from under the frame on a dolly. "Back already? Seriously dude, it's not my fault that you haven't cracked open your algebra book since last November, and – oh."

Bella gave him an embarrassed, little wave. "I already passed algebra, but thanks."

"I thought you were--"

"I know." Bella tried to read his expression, but he avoided her gaze, climbing to his feet and trying to rub the oil off his hands with an old towel. He looked like an automotive disaster – covered in grease from head to toe, his look only improved by his fading black eye. But whether or not she had a right to be, Bella was kind of touched. He might hate her, but he was still putting all this effort into her truck. It was sweet, in a twisted sort of way. "You know, you don't have to kill yourself on this thing. I'm sure Charlie will still pay you even if you can't get the dent out."

"I like to earn what I get," he muttered, still maintaining the large, neutral territory between them. "I figure even if I can't fix it, least I can do is send it back with the oil changed."

"That's very kind of you."

He simply nodded in response, another awkward silence beginning to stretch between them. Bella wanted to laugh; they were both so damn stubborn. As if he were reading her mind, Jake did laugh. It was absent his usual warmth, more a bitter chuckle than anything else, but Bella was willing to take it. "We're a matched pair, aren't we?" Jake finally asked with a rueful smile. Bella gingerly touched the scratches on her cheek and his face knotted up in response. "I'm sorry you got hurt."

"I'm sorry you can't duck faster," she replied quietly. He grinned at her sharp retort, the bruise on his face growing more sharply evident as he smiled.

"Yeah," he conceded, taking a step towards her into the no man's land they had drawn between them, crossing that line in the sand. "I'll have to work on that. I'm sorry you almost got yourself killed chasing ghosts."

Bella ventured another step into the garage. "Yeah…I'm going to try not to go charging off any more cliffs anytime soon. I'm sorry you can be a heartless jackass sometimes."

Again, Jake bridged the gap between them with another stride. "I'm sorry you're stubborn as a mule."

Step.

"I'm sorry you didn't stick up for me in front of your friends."

Step.

They were only inches from one another now, trying to overcome their own awkwardness and insecurities with sarcasm and misplaced resentment. But it was a poor substitute for sincerity. "Mostly I'm just sorry in general," Jake said, his voice now absent its earlier dark humor. He made that final motion, and pulled Bella in tight against his chest.

She buried her head into the crook of his neck, blissfully oblivious to the fact that he was sweaty and covered in grime. It didn't matter. None of it mattered because Jake was sorry and he was hugging her and he didn't hate her or pity her and he wasn't going to be the last, resonating thing she lost before it all became too much and drove her mad. He was still her Jake, as much as he could be. And for that instant, that was enough. "I'm sorry, too."

She didn't know how long they stood like that. Frankly, she didn't care. Because Jake had his face buried in the top of her head and his hand was making slow circles against her back, and it wasn't until she felt his damp shirt collar pressed against her cheek that she realized she was sobbing against him. She sniffled thickly, embarrassed at herself, at her blinding overreactions, and tried to pull away, but he held her fast.

"It's okay," Jake breathed into the top of her head. "It's fine." And since he didn't care, and since he had a way of bringing her walls down even when she was trying not to let him, and since that made it all his fault anyway, Bella stayed right there.

"I'm sorry," she breathed into his shirt after the sobs began to ebb, after God only knows how long. "I must've picked up the phone a hundred times. I just didn't know what to say."

"Yeah," he replied, and it felt like he laughed a little, his chest bouncing beneath her. "I missed you too."

"That wasn't what I said."

Jake only laughed again. "Yeah, but it's what you meant." And he said it like he knew what he was to her, like he knew that he was the only thing keeping her planted here, and he was okay with that. He reached around her shoulder and lowered the tailgate on her truck, and helped her onto it before clamoring up beside her. When he threw his arm back around her shoulder, Bella leaned into him gratefully.

"I've been thinking about what you said. I…ever since I got out of the hospital, I haven't been able to shake this feeling that something is horribly wrong with the world around me," she murmured, her body no longer wracked by sobs, but the tears still refusing to stop pouring down her cheeks. She pressed in closer against him, and he returned the gesture with an obligatory squeeze. "But now I'm starting to think that it's not that something's wrong with the world, Jake. I think there's just something wrong with me…" She trailed off.

Jake just shook his head. "What I said…Bella, I was just angry. It was…it was just a bad day. I had to say goodbye to one of the best people in my life, then topped it off by getting the shit kicked out of me and learning that two of my friends had almost been killed." He shuddered at the thought, still shaking his head silently. "I know it's no excuse for what I said--"

"Doesn't make it any less true." The next words stuck in her throat when she tried to speak, caught like she was choking on them. And when they finally crossed the threshold of her lips, they were barely audible. "There's something wrong with me, in my head."

Jake was quiet for a moment, looking down at her as if he was reading the emotions on her face like a novel. His own expression flickered, dark eyes becoming amazingly sad. "You were in an accident," he finally said. "Maybe it's just going to take time…"

Through the tears, Bella could only smile ruefully. Real, fake, it didn't matter – Jake was always trying to give her hope. He'd once looked at her that same way, made all those promises about time and healing and fixing her. And boy, did he try. Maybe he would've succeeded, Bella couldn't say. But this wasn't a broken heart, and it wasn't her own twisted fairy tale. Some stories don't have happy endings – it was the lesson she was currently learning as, with each beat of her heart, her entire being ached for a boy she didn't truly know, and who would never be the hero from her dreams. Some stories don't have happy endings.

She just didn't have the heart to say those words to Jacob.

Instead Bella reached for her backpack, which had fallen by the wayside near the back of the truck sometime during their reconciliation. She hauled it into her lap, grunting under its weight. When Jake looked at her quizzically she told him, "There's something I want you to see." From amongst the myriad inside, Bella pulled a huge tome and plopped in on her lap.

Jake leaned over to glance at the title. "The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders?" he said quizzically. "Bella, isn't this about as effective as typing your symptoms into Google?"

"It's what they use in hospitals to diagnose patients with mental disorders," she told him, unable to be flippant about the whole thing. "I've been researching all week, trying to find anything that might indicate I'm not completely crazy," she said, trying not to let her tears drip onto the pages as she flipped. "You know, stuff like latent accident trauma, or evidence that the doctors left a sponge in my brain. Even the weird stuff, like waking comas and out of body experiences."

"And?"

Bella finally found the page she was looking for and dropped the book in his lap. "Nothing. This was the only thing that matched any of my symptoms."

Jake snorted derisively before he could stop himself, but his voice held a world of sympathy. "You do not have schizophrenia."

Bella pointed to the top-most symptom: hallucinations. "I nearly got myself killed chasing a woman who didn't exist."

Jake pushed her finger out of the way and continued reading, all the while Bella shivered beside him, certain he was going to come to the same sort of tragic conclusion that she had. "We don't know that was a hallucination, Bella," he murmured, still trying to make sense of the psychiatric jargon. "What if it was some sort of seizure? Or, I don't know, some kind of fucked up sleep walking? I mean, you're not hearing voices or anything, right? No one telling you to build a baseball field?"

Bella glared at him. "This isn't funny."

"Of course it's not, but what is funny is either you or me trying to play doctor," he told her gently. "I can only make out about every fourth word of this, and seeing as how you're an oh-so-wise junior, I'm guessing that means you can make out about every third word. But it says here you have to have symptoms lasting at least six months, so I think you're in the clear."

"For now." As far as Bella was concerned her future was inevitable now – that slow decline into madness. At first it had just been the dreams, which she chalked up to residual trauma and an overactive imagination. But once they'd crossed over into the realm of reality, into the here and now…well, it seemed like it was only a matter of time. The feel of Jake's warm hand on her shoulder pulled her from her stupor.

"Hey, don't do that," he told her. "Don't go a million miles away without me." She tried to smile for him, but her lips couldn't seem to come together right. Jake closed the manual and tossed it into the bed of the truck haphazardly. "Since we're playing doctor, you want to hear my diagnosis?"

"Sure," she said wetly, throwing up her hands. It wasn't like she had anything else to lose.

"I don't think you're crazy. I think you're just hurting."

Bella tried to grasp the significance of what he was saying, but it eluded her. "I don't understand," she muttered, frustrated and uninterested in games.

Jake sighed and looked contemplative for a moment, trying to put what he was thinking into words. "I think," he said finally, "that after the accident you were in pain, maybe you were dying…I don't know. But I think your psyche made up a story, a life, a person that would keep you holding on when your body was ready to give up. I think you created a superhero for yourself, someone to protect you and love you and make you feel safe."

As he was talking his arm worked its way back around Bella's shoulder. "Someone that was powerful enough to make you…make your body want to fight harder. I think you gave yourself a reason to survive when you didn't think you could anymore. And I think, now that it's all over…well, that maybe you're just having a hard time letting go of what you convinced yourself was so important. Maybe that's why your dreams are so bad, and why you think you're seeing things: your brain just wants so badly to believe it's still real, that you're making yourself think it is." He shrugged a little. "I think you're doing this to yourself, Bella."

He said it with such earnest, such an honest belief that it almost broke Bella in two – she'd done nothing for Jake to inspire the kind of confidence he had in her. It was so genuine, so sweet.

And in this case so very, very wrong.

With all her might Bella wanted to believe what he was saying; that everything – vampires and werewolves and Edward himself – had just been a survival mechanism created by the dying mind of a girl who'd read one too many stories in her lifetime. But she knew that wasn't the case.

"I wish you were right," she whispered, her throat constricting against her will. "I really wish you were…"

"What makes you think I'm not?" he teased. "You think my vast medical training doesn't make me as qualified as that book to make a diagnosis and – hey," he stopped teasing when he saw her face twist up, a paroxysm of the pain rising her up inside her. "Hey, hey, hey, I'm sorry. I was just kidding and-"

"It's not you," she brushed him off with decisive wave of her hand, willing the tears to recede. But they came in fresh, new waves, pouring over the scabs on her face, dribbling down to her chin.

Jake dodged her offending hand and pulled her close again. "Then what is it?"

Almost subconsciously Bella found herself leaning into his touch. "It's just," she started to explain, but her throat caught at the onslaught of memories that were boiling below the surface in her mind. "It's just that there's too much other…shit! I know things," she told him a rush, the truth spilling over the dam she'd built up inside, and out into the open where she never wanted it to be. But the burden was too much to carry, especially after the other day. And she was beginning to feel that if the words didn't get out then she'd just self-destruct from the pressure. "I know things that I shouldn't, things that I wouldn't if all this was just some construct of my own messed up head!"

"Things like what?"

The list was beginning to seem endless. "Like what Carlisle and Esme Cullen look like, even though I've never met them in real life. Or the pack. Or you, even though I hadn't seen you in ten years." She absently reached out and tugged on a stray bit of his hair. "Every detail of your face, I knew it perfectly."

"I'm sure there's a rational explanation for that," he tried to assure her, but Bella could see the doubt creeping into his eyes. "I mean, what was that thing you said about waking comas earlier?"

Bella groaned. "It's a crackpot theory some people have that they can see and perceive normal events at times while comatose. But it really is written by a bunch of loonies…"

"Well, what if it was true?" He shrugged. "I mean, it would make sense – this Cullen guy was your doctor, right? Maybe his wife brought him lunch one day or something. And I know that after Harry's first heart attack a lot of folks from the rez were in and out of the hospital. Your dad's got a pretty good reputation. I'm sure a lot of people stopped in to say hello. And me, well…"

"It's true, isn't it?" she whispered before he had a chance to finish. "What Quil told me about you? That night when we met again…that wasn't your first time there, was it? You'd been to the hospital before, keeping an eye on me…"

He chuckled weakly. "Well…yes and no. It was more about Charlie needing the help that first week until your mom got a full time substitute and flew out. And even after that, well, Billy was always anxious to check on your dad…and he doesn't drive so well anymore and…well, yeah, I wound up there a lot…" he murmured, and even Jake looked a little bit uncomfortable. Bella instantly wished she'd never mentioned it, but her filters were down, and it wasn't as if she hadn't already laid enough embarrassing things on the table already. Jake bumped her in the shoulder when she tried to look away. "But it was always nice seeing you, too."

"Yeah, I'm sure I was great company…" she said darkly, wishing in vain for a rock to crawl under and die. _It's always about you, isn't it_, Bella, she chided herself silently.

"You'd be surprised." He reached out and tugged on her hair in retaliation when she still refused to meet his eyes. "It got…really bad for your dad for a while. I mean, to the point where Billy would have to drag him away just to make sure he ate and showered. I think it made things easier for him, knowing that I was keeping an eye on you – it was like he was afraid he'd come back and you'd really be gone. Physically, you know, and not just in your head." Bella glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but Jake was the one now a million miles away. A darkness clouded his expression, and for the first time Bella was actually glad for the things she didn't know, didn't remember. Seeing Charlie drunk the other night…that had been bad enough. She couldn't imagine him even more broken…waiting… "I had it way easier than he did," Jake said finally, pulling them both back to reality. "I used to read to you, old copies of _Popular Mechanics_ and _Sport Illustrated_ and stuff, which is exactly my point."

"What?"

"Everything you said that you 'knew'…Bella, it could just as easily been stuff that you picked up from me, or your Dad, or any of your visitors, or the radio in the background, or what I read to you. It doesn't necessarily mean that you're a schizoid."

"Jake, I knew Harry was going to die," she murmured softly, before she lost the nerve. With baited breath she waited for his face to fall. "I didn't have the circumstances right but I knew his heart was going to give out…and there was nothing I could do about it." She was waiting for him to realize what she'd said, to hate her for sitting idly by knowing that his mentor was going to die. But the outburst never came, the hate never came. Instead he reached to entwine his dirty fingers with her own, and before she knew it, Jake was the one comforting her.

"He was sick, Bella," he murmured, his voice faint and dry. She couldn't tell if he was really trying to convince her of that fact, or himself. "He was in the room down the hall – out of everything you said I'd expect you to know that…"

"You're not listening!" she protested, yanking her fingers out of his grasp. She didn't want to be reassured. She wanted him to hear her and understand her and…and believe her. "I knew about Sam and Emily! And I know a hundred other random, horrible things! Who knows how many of them are actually true, or are going to come true! But I can't figure this out on my own and I need you to…to believe me before…before…someone else dies…before I get someone like Embry killed or…or…" she felt the heat rising in her face, the pressure building in her chest. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think…

"Bella!" He grabbed her face gently in his hands, and forced her to look at him. "I won't let that happen." He said it with such resolution, such certainty, that Bella believed him. After all, it was Jake. "And I do believe that what you're saying is true. I do believe that you _think_ you dreamt how all this would happen. I just think there's a rational explanation for all this. Seeing that woman doesn't mean you're actually schizophrenic, and knowing about Harry's death…" He brushed his thumb against her temple, staring deeply into her eyes, as if could see through them and into her very mind. "It doesn't mean you can predict the future either. I think you're just putting the pieces together faster than the rest of us, or maybe it's just a coincidence, I don't know. But I do know that you're going to find a way to get through this. And in the meantime, I won't let you get hurt, and I won't let you get my friends killed either. Okay?"

"Promise?" she asked him, breathlessly.

He nodded resolutely, her face still clutched between his fingers. "Absolutely. And if you want, I promise I'll help you figure out what's going on, too. But I'm willing to bet dollars to donuts that it's not that you have a personality disorder or freaky kinetic mind powers."

Bella snickered brokenly, already feeling…lighter somehow. "Wouldn't it be precognitive powers?" she said, her voice awash with relief and rage and humor and a thousand other problems that she didn't have to face alone anymore.

"Like Sookie?"

"No, that's telepathy and…did you just make a _True Blood_ reference?"

He shrugged, and finally let go of her face, then wiped at her cheek with his sleeve to brush off the dirt he'd left behind. "Quil's cousin snagged him an illegal cable hookup, so we've been on an HBO binge lately. Would you rather hug it out, bitch?" He held his arms out wide. She took a gentle swing at him instead, and Jake leaned into the blow willingly. "Seriously though, it's going to be okay, one way or another."

He seemed so certain that Bella found herself actually believing him. Maybe he was right, maybe this was just one of those things that would heal with time, just like the rest of her body after the crash. Of course her mind would run to the idea of supernatural! So many of the fake memories in her head were overrun with shape shifters and blood drinkers with more powers than she could fathom, things that couldn't possibly be real.

Things that didn't exist in this world.

But in so many ways Jake really was her anchor, keeping her grounded in an existence without mystery, without monsters…

Without magic.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she was just putting details together faster than the people around her. Maybe dreaming of Harry's death had just been coincidence and nothing more. Maybe the mysterious woman was just the result of residual swelling of the brain – something logical and rational and explainable. Something human.

Maybe she was normal, ordinary, and nothing more.

"If you really are scared Bella," Jake said after a while. "And you really want to know what's going on…well, I'll go back to the hospital with you then. You won't have to do it alo--"

"I don't want to go back to the hospital," she interrupted him, her voice barely above a whisper. It was a confessional, and this was her sin. "But I…don't want to feel like this anymore, either." She fought back against the surge of guilt that immediately threatened to overtake her body. This was her life. Not that world in her head, but the actual ground beneath her feet and the people who walked upon it. She had to find a way to separate the two, she had to find a way to let go of someone she had never loved, and thus never truly lost. Because trying to hang on to both worlds was killing her, and Bella was tired of trying to cheat death.

Jake nodded, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Okay," he said resolutely.

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, then that's going to be our goal." And he shook her hand up and down, as if agreeing to the terms of a deal. "Operation: Make Bella Feel Better will be our plan for this summer. You don't want to feel bad all the time? Then let's fix it."

Bella had a feeling it wasn't going to be that simple. "And what if I keep seeing people? Almost run off a cliff again?"

"Well, for one, I already promised that I wouldn't let you run off anymore cliffs," he reminded her gently. "And as for the seeing people thing…" He reached out and tapped the cover of the DSM-IV with one oil-stained finger. "We've got six months before we have to worry about that. Sound like a plan?" His face was more confident than Bella could ever hope to be. But she tried to muster up a smile in return.

"Yeah," she agreed shakily. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

"'Ou know," Jake mumbled through a mouthful of sandwich, "'ou could talk to me'f 'ou want."

Bella poked at her bologna and tried not to wrinkle her nose. Jake had insisted on making lunch. Apparently he felt that mystery meat and Wonder Bread still qualified. "Pardon?"

He swallowed and tried again. "You could talk to me, if you want. I know you don't want to talk to a shrink about…well, you know. But if you don't want to keep it all locked up inside and stuff you could tell me about what you think happened..." Bella just gaped at him awkwardly. "What?" he demanded. "Maybe it'll help if you're not the only one who remembers these things. It was just a thought…"

She patted his shoulder reassuringly. "No, it's sweet. It's just…I don't know, you don't think it would be weird? Some kind of twisted, self-fulfilling prophecy?"

He shrugged and motioned at the remnants of her sandwich with his eyes. She gratefully handed it over. "Maybe," he finally said, pulling off the crusts like a ten year old. "But I also know how good it feels when you finally get something off your chest."

"What do you want to know?" she asked hesitantly. It was strange, the idea of those two worlds converging. Like introducing your summer friends to your school friends – they were united by a common theme, and yet utterly and inherently different.

Jake seemed unfazed. "I don't know. What did we used to do? I mean, for fun and stuff?"

"Well…" Bella chuckled quietly to herself. "Mostly we did a lot of this."

"A lot of what?"

She spread her hands wide, as if revealing to him the bounty of his own listing garage. "This. Nothing. Sitting around your garage doing homework, talking, working on cars, and eating off paper plates."

"Wow." He shook his head slowly, with mocking sadness. "Even in your head we're boring."

Bella wadded up a piece of notebook paper and chucked it at his head. Naturally, it missed by six inches. "Don't make fun," she scolded. "It was…nice." It seemed like the wrong word; nothing about that time in her life had been nice. There had just been awful (when she was alone) and slightly less awful (when she was with Jacob). But this Jake didn't need to know that. He didn't need to see all the bad, broken parts of her. Not this time around.

Meanwhile, Jake, having finished both their lunches, had climbed out of the truck bed and disappeared back under the chasse. Moments later, the silence around them was perforated by the sound of protesting metal as he resumed his work. "So then, is it weird now?" he called up from below the car. "You know, sitting in here and being boring with me when you've done it already. Is it like some fucked up déjà vu?"

"No, it's actually kinda comforting, doing what I did before," she murmured. "It…I think it helps, actually. Makes me feel a little less crazy to know that even though it was just stuff I did in my dreams, it was the kinda of stuff I'd do normally." She laughed that dark, sad laugh again. "Does that sound completely crazy?"

She looked down at the ground just in time to see the top of Jake's head reappear momentarily, and he shook it back and forth. "I don't think so. It's like getting the world in your head to sync up with this one. It doesn't sound that strange to me. But then again, I hang out with crazy people so what do I know…"

"You're soooo lucky my aim is bad," Bella said threateningly.

He didn't seem too concerned. "Seriously though, we didn't do anything else together?"

"Sure…" she racked her brain for something interesting to tell him. Interesting aside from the fact that he'd been a giant wolf-boy at the time, and she'd had her heart broken by a vampire. "We went to the movies and bonfires and stuff. And there was that Fourth of July when Quil got those fireworks…"

"That's more like it!" He demanded details, and Bella fulfilled his request to the best of her narrative abilities.

But still, she couldn't help but feel strange as she sat there, letting the stories spill from her lips. Recalling all those memories deliberately…it was like a controlled burn – contained but only just. She was expecting the pain that came with them, but it was fleeting and manageable as she sifted through the reels of tape in her mind. And because she was in control she felt those other emotions, usually masked by the intensity of her loss, begin to well up inside her. Those brief moments of joy that Jake had peppered her life with that spring, when he'd been the only thing keeping her from flying off into oblivion as the Earth turned on its axis.

She recalled the feeling of a motorcycle, wind whipping through her hair. And surprisingly it wasn't Edward's voice that she recalled most strongly, but that feeling of doing something brave and beyond herself simply because she was young and unafraid and there was no one there to tell her "no."

She missed that feeling more than she'd realized.

"Unbelievable," Jake muttered as that story came to life. "I put you on the back of a bike? You, Ms. Severe Head Trauma?"

"Quite willingly, yeah," peered over the truck wall at him. "Surprised?"

He rolled out on the dolly and gaped up at her. "Yes. Yes, I am. Were you…" he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "You know, any good at it?"

Bella dropped a wad of paper this time as opposed to throwing it, and it bounced square off his nose. "Yes, thank you very much," she said smartly, opting not to tell him about…well, the less severe head trauma she'd suffered during their first ride. After all, it was her story to tell – she got to edit where she wanted. "I did have a good teacher, though," she added with a smile. "And a good friend."

"Sure," he chuckled. "Sweet talk me. I'm sure that's how you convinced me to put you on a large, mechanized machine of death the first time..."

But somewhere in the flood of motorcycles and movie theaters something else was coming through. The smell of pine and strong hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her in closer and tighter…and still not close or tight enough. Her lips burned, and she felt her cheeks color to match them in response. She shook her head fervently, trying to force all those images and sensation back behind the wall she'd built. And when she finally tucked them safely away, and reentered the present, Jake was standing there, staring at her.

"What?" she demanded.

"I've been talked to you for the last minute and a half and you haven't heard a word I said." He pointed at her with the butt of his wrench. "And you're blushing," he said in mock disbelief. "What were you thinking about? It was about me, wasn't it? Spill it, Swan!"

"No, I wasn't! I…" Bella stuttered, completely unprepared for the direction the conversation had taken. "It's…complicated, Jake."

"Well then, give me the uncomplicated version."

She threw up her hands defensively. "There isn't one. It was just…we were friends…really, really good friends and then…Edward…" His name was still heavy on her tongue, thick and awkward and hard to say, like it wasn't made for this world or her lips. "He left…and then you…and I, we just…yeah." She shrugged, helpless under his smirking gaze. "It was complicated." She waited with baited breath, for Jake to give his take on the situation. To her great relief, he only lasted a second before his smug grin exploded into outright laughter.

"Jacob Black, what the hell is so funny?" she demanded. Did he really find the idea of her and him that…ridiculous?

He choked and coughed and finally managed to breathe well enough to respond. "You totally had a coma-sex dream about me!"

And not even the barrage of paper balls that Bella pelted him with could get him to stop.

* * *

Jake asked questions for the rest of the evening. He picked her damaged brain for details on everything from the make of the bikes they'd salvaged, to the movies they'd watched, to the meals Bella had once cooked. And the details spilled from her lips more and more easily the more she spoke about them. As the hours passed, she realized there was something cathartic about the entire experience. Like sharing a tragic secret that'd you'd promised not to tell: once Bella got over how 'wrong' the experience felt, she realized that it was lifting a weight off her shoulders. One that she'd been carrying around for so long that she'd become accustomed to the way it crushed her and pulled her and wore her down.

She wasn't sure if Jake had known it would be like that from the beginning, if he'd planned to help her like that, or if it was just a fortunate side effect of being his friend, one of those serendipitous, spontaneous moments that just seemed to happen in his presence. But she didn't care. Deliberately or not, Jake had held out his hand, and offered to take the yoke from off her back.

And once it was gone, Bella found she was glad to be rid of it.

Of course, she didn't tell him everything. He never asked about the other aspect of their relationship after his initial outburst, and frankly she was relieved. Still, she didn't offer any more information on the pseudo-love she had dreamed they once shared. She didn't tell him how he'd jumped off a cliff to save her. She didn't tell him how she left him standing broken in her driveway, without so much as a 'goodbye, I'll try not to get killed for the man who left me broken in your grasp.' And she certainly didn't tell him about a confession as he lay wounded after saving her life, his pack mate's life. A confession that she loved him, but not enough. Not enough to chase the clouds from his sky, not enough to brave his fires, not enough to let go of the fear of watching her friendship morph into something more, no matter how desperately it wanted to.

No, those were secrets she tucked inside her cheek, better left in the realms of her mind. Jake was carrying enough burdens for her as it was. Why burden their fresh start with the ashes of previous fires, long gone cold and forgotten?

Still, he seemed happy enough with the information he did get as he walked her to Charlie's cruiser that evening. "I'm serious," he teased in a hushed whisper. "If you got on the back of a motorcycle, the entire town of Forks would be forced to file insurance claims. It's just a simple fact of your existence, Bella."

"Shush." She whacked him in the arm as they approached the car. The last things Charlie needed to hear mentioned in the same sentence were her name and the word 'motorcycles'.

Under the pretense of returning her overburdened backpack, Jake stopped her before the glow of the headlights could illuminate them both fully. "Hey, remember what I said earlier: it's all going to be okay. You're not completely crazy." He brushed his fingers against her arm reassuringly as he looped the strap over her shoulder.

"No, I'm incompletely crazy," she murmured back. But the tangle of nerves in her stomach, which had felt as abrasive and raw as steel wool earlier, had eased some. "Just remember what you promised," she reminded him as she walked away.

With a grin he flashed her the Girl Scout salute, the same cheeky response she'd given Phil all those weeks ago. "You just work on staying out of the library."

"I promise."

But as soon as she was outside the reach of Jake's orbit, she felt some of the old worries starting to build beneath her skin. He was reassuring, but what if he was wrong? What if something happened and he couldn't stop her? What if she did keep seeing visions for six months? And why had he seemed to find the idea of caring for her so laughable?

And the most confusing question of all: why did it bother her so much?

* * *

_The room was spinning, and Bella could do nothing to make it stop. She clutched at the sheets beneath her, but red silk slipped right through her fingers. _

_It was the fire. It was burning through her skin, her sinew, her veins. Her body was a pyre, every cell screaming in pain. And through the agony she smiled. _

_Three days._

_There was a clatter, and Bella's vision focused on the source. Pale and soft and ethereal._

_Esme._

_She placed a bowl of water on the elegant night table, and began to wipe Bella's brow with damp cloth. The moisture evaporated the moment it touched her searing skin._

_Three days. _

"_I'm so sorry, Bella," she murmured, her voice heavy and mournful._

"_Why?" Bella choked out through the pain. "I wanted this. I asked for this. We can be a family now. You can all come back now."_

_Esme's cool fingers grazed her forehead and Bella leaned into the touch. "Not everything is what it seems, dear." Her porcelain fingers continued to travel, tracking Bella's cheek, her jaw, the curve of her neck._

"_But I'll be a vampire now," Bella pleaded, panic mixing with pain. "We can all be perfect, together."_

"_I'm sorry for dragging you into this," Esme professed. "I'm sorry for making you this way." She pressed a single finger against Bella's fluttering jugular vein, then another, and another. Gently they began to constrict. _

"_Esme…"_

"_Please understand," she pleaded once again, her tone desperate. "I didn't have a choice. I only wanted to save my son."_

_Bella heard a sharp CRACK!_

_And then she heard nothing at all._

* * *

Bella awoke hunched over, hands wrapped around her knees, curling herself into a protective ball in her chair. Beneath her ribcage, her heart pounded erratically.

"Please," she pleaded in a broken whisper, staring out into the darkness beyond her window. "Please make it stop. Please…"

Her whole body ached with a pain she couldn't fathom or begin to describe. And she didn't know if it was that twisted paroxysm of Esme that she was pleading to, or her own damaged body, or to a lover that could not possibly exist somewhere beyond the blank wall of trees. But it didn't matter; Bella knew no one was really listening.

"Please, just make it stop. Please…let me go."

* * *

**A/N: **200 reviews in 9 chapters! It's unbelievable - I have some of the most enthusiastic readers ever. So thank you all for all your feedback, words of encouragement, and patience. Recently I've had lots of questions about Bella's messed up dreams, so I threw you guys a bone with this one. Just think about it ;) As always, a huge thank you to my Ceci and Sarah. Also reader Eyeliner 101 made a trailer for DoB! You can find a link to it posted in my profile, so go check it out and show her some love!


	11. Chapter 11

"You sound like shit."

Bella rubbed her forehead, warding off the headache that seemed to be constantly plaguing her this week. Exhaustion was beginning to take its toll, but it was better than the things she saw behind her eyes when she closed them. "Well, then at least I sound like I feel."

"When was the last time you actually slept?" Jake asked, his voice echoing through the phone.

"Two months ago," she shot back sarcastically. "Why, you think this might be having an adverse effect on my health or something?"

"No, but it's certainly having one on your mood."

She groaned, slumping over and resting her forehead against the brightly colored floral placemats she'd put on the kitchen table. "Sorry, it's nothing personal. I'm just crabby…"

"Then cheer the fuck up, 'cause I have a surprise for you." His voice was brimming with barely concealed enthusiasm. "What are you doing on Thursday night?"

"The same thing I do every night, Pinky…"

He snorted into the phone, and Bella took mild comfort in the fact that her dour mood was at least good for the occasional laugh. "Well, your botched plans for world domination are going to have to wait. We're officially going out to celebrate, among other things, the close of the school year for us 'official' students!"

That bit of information alleviated Bella's mood slightly. Without school to get in the way, she'd have another excuse to monopolize more of his time. "Thursday's your last day?" She could practically see his grin through the phone.

"Yes, ma'am. I am two days away from officially being a high school sophomore. So we're going to go out and celebrate and start _Operation: Make Bella Feel Better_ with a bang…sort of. It's complicated, but I promise it'll be fun…well, parts of it will be. And completely normal – it's starting to sound like you could use an evening completely devoid of weirdness. Oh, and I have a surprise for you, so that should help. Also, I'm beginning to feel like we need an acronym for that or something, but OMBFB is just as awkward. I'll have to sleep on it. Anyways, can I come get you around six, since I have the truck anyways?"

He was going a mile a minute, and Bella secretly wondered if he'd been hitting the coffee a bit too hard in order to get all his studying done. Still, it wasn't as if she had anything better to do. "Sure," she agreed. "You need any help studying before then?"

"Nah," he assured her quickly. "I've got it all under control, mostly. I'll see you Thursday. Try to sleep." The line went dead before Bella could even mutter a goodbye. She hung up the phone and sat at the kitchen table like that for a while, head down.

"Charlie's right," she muttered to herself. "I really do need a hobby." Her eyes started to grow heavy as she laid there, so she filled herself a cup of the coffee that had long ago grown cold in the pot on the counter, and went upstairs to vacuum for the second time that afternoon.

* * *

Thursday arrived with aching slowness, as does any anticipated event. Bella wasn't quite sure how, but through some miracle she'd managed to pass the hours till then: sorting old Christmas decorations and putting together bags of clothes that were too small and linens that didn't get used to take down to the Goodwill, cleaning out the attic and dusting the tops of all the bureaus in the house. Anything to keep her hands moving, anything to keep her eyes open. Charlie had finally locked the vacuum and mop in the trunk of the cruiser and took the Clorox away from her.

"Enough," he'd said. "We're eating dinner – which you're not cooking -- we're going to watch some television, and then you're going to bed. Either that or I'm calling the doctor. But one way or another, this has to stop, Bells."

She'd given in to the first two caveats without complaint, but Charlie must have sensed that he'd have a hard time getting her to agree to the third. The last thing she remembered was drinking a strong cup of raspberry tea and watching the Mariners play without much interest. Sixteen hours later she woke up sprawled out on the couch to find that Charlie had covered her with a blanket, and gone off to work with the majority of cleaning supplies still locked in his car. Bella made a mental note to hide all the NyQuil and Benadryl in the house, and to make her own tea in the future, but couldn't deny that she felt a little less manic after a night of medicated sleep.

Thursday evening found her out on the front stoop eagerly awaiting Jake's arrival and taking advantage of a break in the weather. The sun flickered through the light cloud cover, but even at its brightest, it couldn't match the intensity of the warmth of Phoenix that she so often longed for. She could close her eyes and remember the back porch of the little blue house in Arizona, the searing heat and the warm desert winds that scattered sand and dust over everything. For a split second the heat would reach through her fingers and toes, running down into the core of her body. But moments later the chilly sea winds of Forks would blow, drawing the warmth back out and filling her nose with the scent of salt. Even in the current bout of temperate spring weather, Bella never felt totally warm. Still, she rolled up her jeans to catch the fading rays of sun that broke through the cloud cover, while perusing one of her father's many horrific book choices.

Charlie's library contained two types of reading materials: sports memoirs, and bad 80's sci-fi, neither of which was too appealing. But Bella's own collections were filled to the brim with the classics of romantic literature, a genre that she wasn't ready to revisit. At least, not yet. And since nothing could convince her that Pro Bass Fishing was in any way, shape, or form interesting, that only left her with one real option. _War of the Dragon Men._ It had a cover that featured a Barbarella knock-off in a leather bikini brandishing a sword at…well, what looked a lot like a half-man, half-dragon. It was terrible.

And it was perfect.

She was just getting to the part where the scantily clad fem-warrior-babe decimated the deadly sea beast with nothing but a slingshot when she heard a car pull up and a door slam. "Gimme a second," she told Jake without looking up. "I just want to finish this page, then we'll go…"

Someone drifted into her peripheral vision and plopped down onto the step beside her. "Sure. Good book?" a distinctly feminine voice asked. Bella peeked over the top of the page in surprise and found Angela staring at the book cover quizzically through her glasses. "You have to wonder how an outfit like that could ever be considered practical for battle. I mean, with all that running and jumping it's got to chafe after a while…"

"Hey!" Bella exclaimed, throwing the book down onto the porch and, with an enthusiasm that surprised even her, throwing open her arms. Angela returned the hug quickly though. "What are you doing here?"

"Checking on you, obviously," she explained. "I'm sorry I missed your call the other night. I didn't get your voice mail until the next morning, and then you didn't return any of my messages and I couldn't tell if you were ignoring me or if something had happened, so then I got worried and figured I'd swing by." She shrugged hesitantly as the jumbled rush spilled from her lips. "Sorry if it's coming off as being invasive or creepy or anything. It's just that you sounded upset and--"

Bella dismissed her fears with a wave of her hand. "No, don't worry about it. I'm…" she trailed off as she began to dig through her purse, finally pulling out her cell phone. With its last sliver of battery life the LED screen promptly displayed seven missed calls and two voice mails – all from Angela – and that it was currently in silent mode. "I'm, uh, not very good with technology, apparently…"

Angela took the phone from her and laughed. "And I'm apparently a stalker," she added, deleting all her calls from the screen and handing it back to Bella. "You look better, by the way" she said without warning. "I mean, than the last time I saw you. How are…things?"

Bella chewed on her bottom lip, remembering last week, and the week before. They were all filled with seeming disasters. It was hard to imagine herself looking any better as a result of cliffs and nightmares and self-induced insomnia. But then she remembered Jacob, and all those negative details seemed to fade into the background. Maybe the difference is that at least she wasn't facing things alone anymore. "They're…alright, I guess. I'm okay," she managed to say, throwing a bit resolve behind the words.

"Good," Angela said with a sincerity that seemed to radiate from every pore. "In that case, I have a few propositions for you. I'm actually just on my way to pick up my dress for the dance tomorrow night, and "technically" you're still enrolled at the school. I don't suppose you might want to-" Bella felt all the blood draining from her face, and knew she must have noticeably paled, because Angela trailed off sharply. "Or, not?"

Bella shook her head vehemently, subconsciously scratching at a leg that should've had a cast on it. "I…it's just," she stuttered helplessly. "I'm sorry, Ang, I'm just not ready yet."

Angela, being the emphatic person that Bella wasn't, didn't ask why or for any more of an explanation than that. She didn't even seem disappointed. "I kind of figured, but I would've felt like a bad person if I didn't at least extend an invitation. Besides, I want you to remember that you're always welcome, okay? We still miss you."

Bella could only nod and try not to think of dancing or trellises or watching the sun bleed into fading twilight. She dug her nails into the concrete, the pain from the grit biting into the skin of her fingertips keeping her mind in the here, the now.

"But I do have one more question for you," Angela warned, seemingly undaunted by Bella's response. "And this is one that I'm going to selfishly need you to say yes to." Bella grew wary, completely oblivious to the humor in the other girl's tone.

"The twins are in a total basketball phase, and for their birthday in February my Grandmother decided to sign them up for this fancy all day basketball clinic in Seattle. Problem is, since it's this Sunday both my parents are busy working at the chapel, which means I'm stuck getting them there. So I was thinking," she said hesitantly. "Rather than me driving seven hours only to sit in a Starbucks by myself, maybe you'd want to come with and keep me company. We could do some shopping, grab lunch, just relax for a while. And you'd be saving me from an afternoon of boredom and mind numbing basketball lingo. So…please? "

Bella initially balked at the idea, only to stop and wonder why. Angela was sweet, and she hadn't actually been out of the Forks area since…well, ever since she'd gotten here. "I'm flattered. It's just…I don't know, why not invite Jess or someone?"

Angela's smile visibly dimmed. "Jess is great and all it's just that, well last time she was in a car with my siblings things didn't go too well. Children really aren't her thing…and besides, I thought that you and I could use it as a chance to reconnect. Unless you don't want to, in which case, that's fine too."

It was strangely overwhelming watching Angela, this girl who had no real reason to care about her at all, postulate and stumble on her front porch because she was just trying to be nice and unobtrusive at the same time. With a sinking feeling, Bella remembered that she hadn't earned that kind of treatment, not really. But maybe she still could. She remembered a girl who thought she had everything in a single man, and how without him her life seemed absent of friends, of meaning. How she became a zombie, empty inside and out.

The mistakes might not be her own; they might not even be real. But that didn't mean she couldn't learn from them.

"Yeah," she said firmly, a declaration both to herself and this girl who wanted to be her friend. "I mean sure, I'd love to come. It could be good, getting out of dodge for a while."

Angela grabbed her arm excitedly, her face lighting up. "Oh, it will be. My mom knows this guy who runs an antique book store there, and there's this lens that I've wanted to get since the fall and now I won't have to order it, and oh, it'll be a blast."

Bella felt herself return her smile without warning. This was a good thing, she told herself. Maybe the first in a trend.

As if triggered by that very thought, with a telltale rattle, a familiar truck pulled up in front of her house, familiar save for one, small change. In fact, it wasn't until Angela turned around and looked over her shoulder, that Bella even noticed it.

Or rather, the absence of it.

"Oh my God!" Bella jumped off the porch and to the curb with more grace than she could usually muster, Angela following in her wake. Hesitantly she ran her fingers over the side of the truck. Where there used to be a four-foot long gash, her fingers now touched the perfectly smooth planes of rust-orange steel.

"I told you I had a surprise for you."

Bella whirled at the sound of his voice, and threw her arms around Jacob's neck. "It's fantastic! Thank you so much!" She buried her against the side of his neck, while he just stood there, wearing a self-satisfied smile. It had been so long since _anything_ in her life had seemed genuinely capable of actually being salvaged, fixed. It was just like Jake to prove her wrong.

"Yeah, well, when I say I'm gonna do something…" His arms came up to wrap around her shoulders, and it was only then that Bella realized something else was different.

"What the heck are you wearing?" she demanded, pushing away from him. Jake was strictly a jeans and tee-shirt guy, even on his best days. But today he seemed to have swapped the usual attire for the slacks and button up she'd seen him in at Harry's funeral. His hair was pulled back into its usual neat ponytail, and in lieu of a traditional suit jacket he was wearing an ancient, leather one, brown and well worn, and sporting a series of patches that looked like they had something to do with the army.

"You like?" He ducked his head sheepishly. There was no denying that he cleaned up well, likely thanks to years of Rachel's and Rebecca's influence and grooming. But the hairs on the back of Bella's neck stood on end, and she was suddenly worried about what the night held in store for her.

"You look great," she conceded softly. "But the bigger question would be why are you dressed like that, exactly?" Jake was saved from having to answer by the sound of soft footsteps behind them. Angela hovered awkwardly in the background, trying to find a polite way to enter the conversation. Bella gestured her forward, embarrassed to admit that, in the excitement at seeing her truck, she'd momentarily forgotten the other girl was there. "Jake, this is Angela Webber. We go – went -- to school together. Ang, this is my friend, Jacob."

The true gentleman, Jake quickly overcame his surprise at seeing Bella hanging out with another human being, and gave Angela's hand a warm shake. "It's a pleasure. I promised Bella I'd kidnap her tonight, but if you're willing to, uh, squish in the cab you're welcome to come along, too," he offered. "The more the merrier." Behind him the truck suddenly made a suspicious noise, one that sounded a lot like a human sneeze. Jake slammed his fist into the passenger door as casually as possible.

Angela's smile wavered and she gave a half-hearted laugh, glancing quickly between Jake and Bella as if trying to pick up on some silent joke. They just returned the expressions innocently. "Um, thanks for the offer. I actually just popped by to see Bella for a few before I have to pick up my brothers from practice and head to the tailor's. But, um, thanks anyway?"

"No prob," Jake told her, looking a little relieved. The truck was not meant for large groups, and Bella had a feeling it was already fuller than it looked. "And hey, not to be a…nudge or anything," he said, shifting his attention back to Bella, "but you…can't go out wearing _that_."

Bella looked down at her clothes: a lovely combination of denim, cotton, and raggedy sneakers. "Why?" she demanded, folding her arms in a determined pout. If he was going to be sneaky about their destination, she could be difficult in return. "This not good enough for you, Jake?"

"C'mon, that's not remotely what I said. It's just that we're going out in style tonight. So go throw on a skirt or something, we're on kind of a schedule here."

"A schedule for--" she started to demand, but Angela grabbed her wrist and was gently pulling her back up to the house before Bella knew what was happening.

"Just give us a few minutes," Angela called over her shoulder. "We'll be right back."

"Thank you!" Jake sounded way too thoroughly amused for his own good.

"What are you doing?" Bella hissed as Angela guided her through the screen door and started to pull her up the stairs. "Are you in on this?"

"In on this?" She laughed in response, and it sounded so different from the way Bella often heard the noise – it was light and carefree, and genuinely happy. The kind of sound that comes when the humor is not at the expense of another. "Bella," she grabbed her friend by the shoulder and held her on the landing. "There's a nice boy downstairs who fixed your truck, got dressed up for you, and wants to take you out tonight. When was the last time someone did something like that for you?"

For a split-second her heart stuttered painfully in her chest. It wasn't so much a question of when as it was a question of reality. Her heart remembered a time when things like that had happened – selflessness and birthday parties and long, late nights. "Never," her mouth conceded, the way Angela expected it to. But Bella's heart was really saying _never, this time around…_

For a split second she was worried she'd spoken aloud because the next thing Angela asked her was, "Well, then don't you think it's about time someone did?"

* * *

Angela politely raided Bella's closet. She helped Bella into a dress and did up the zipper. She loaned her the white sandals she was wearing when nothing in Bella's closet matched the dress. She took away Bella's baseball cap and pulled back her hair in a way that covered the spot on the back of her head. And then, when Bella demanded to know how she'd gotten so good at this, Angela just smiled and said, "There are consequences to being friends with people like Jessica Stanley."

But Bella had to admit: the girl did good work.

Jake was standing in the front hall talking to Charlie when the girls came traipsing down the stairs. He stopped mid-sentence when he saw her. "That's more like it!" he said enthusiastically. Bella glowered at him. "C'mon, Bella, stop glaring. It's going to cause premature wrinkles."

"When you said you wanted to go out and celebrate, you failed to mention that formal attire would be required," she muttered sullenly.

"I guess I'm just not a details man. But cheer up and let's go have a nice time anyway, okay?" He started make his way back outside when Charlie threw his arm across the door fame, stopping Jake in his tracks.

"Look here, son, you know I love you like my own. But I want to make myself very clear: the only reason I'm going along with this whole little "mystery charade" you've got going on here is because I know that if something goes wrong your old man won't hesitate to let me be the first to tan your ass. You just keep that in mind tonight…"

"Yes sir," Jacob said reassuringly. He did a good job of looking calm and responsible, but Bella had a feeling that years of prolonged exposure to Charlie had officially inoculated him against her father's attempts at intimidation. That, and it was a little hard to take Chief Swan seriously once you'd carried him inside his own house because he was drunk.

Still, Charlie seemed to feel better for having issued that warning. He looked considerably warmer when he turned to his daughter. "You look great, Bells. Have some fun tonight." He leaned in and gave her a hug. "I'm going to set the alarm on the clock in the kitchen to go off at two, okay? You shut it off when you get home…which is my way of saying, be home by two." He eyed Jacob warily again.

"Of course, Dad," Bella said in exasperation, squeezing past her father and out the door, pulling Jake and Angela behind her.

"What happens if you don't shut off the alarm?" Angela asked in a muffled stage whisper as they descended the front steps.

"Then he wakes up, realizes I'm not home, sends the entire local police force out after me, and kills Jacob," she explained. "In that precise order."

"Sucks to be Jacob, huh?" She shuddered. "And I thought my Dad was bad."

"Your Dad is a man of peace," Bella reminded her. "My Dad is a man of guns. There're bound to be a few differences."

"Yeah, but my Dad can frighten people with the power of God – that's gotta count for something, right?" She stopped at the curb as they split to their respective cars.

"Sure you don't want to come with us?" Bella joked, leaning out the truck's open window. "Last chance..."

Angela just laughed. "You're on your own, I've got my own dress to take care of now – but I'll call you Saturday, okay?"

"I promise I'll pick up this time," Bella assured her with a grin. She gave her a heartfelt wave, a moment before Jake sped away from the curb, laughing hysterically.

Bella waited politely until he was done. "Better now?"

"Sorry," he grinned sheepishly. "Had to get that out of my system. The longer you took the more I thought your Dad was really going to kibosh things tonight." He shot her an apprising look out of the corner of his eye. "You really do look nice in that, by the way."

She felt her cheeks burn hot under his gaze. Bella wasn't used to being looked at, not like that. Her allure here at Forks had had more to do with the novelty of her arrival than her appearance. And back in Phoenix, in the land of the sun, there had been a multitude of tanned volleyball players and dancers and swimmers to steal the boys away. It felt…weird, especially when she and her body were so often at odds with one another. She willed the blush, that hair trigger reaction, to go away and tried to divert his attention. "It's all Angela's handy-work. She's single, you know?"

Jake's look suddenly clouded. "Well, if I find any eligible guys, I'll be sure to let them know." Apparently two could play the diversion game.

"Well, Quil and Embry are single, aren't they?" she ventured to ask, relieved when he actually laughed in response.

"I said eligible. That usually means they're required to have, you know, table manners and a mastery of polite conduct in public. And speaking of Tweedles Dee and Dum…would you mind?"

Now that they were well out of view of her house, Bella opened the sliding window in the back of the cab and looked out at the two piles of blankets in the back. "It's safe, boys. Big, bad police dad is out of range."

The two human-sized lumps shuddered and gasped for air. "Jesus Christ, Jake! Where did you find these things – in the dump behind a rendering plant?" Quil demanded, gagging as he emerged. He was dressed as formally as Jake was, black pants and a red button down replacing his usual wardrobe of blue jeans and all manner of hand-me-down tee shirts. "Showing up smelling like manure was not part of the plan tonight."

"No, the plan tonight originally revolved around you walking," Jake shot back, over his shoulder. "Beggars can't be choosers. Oh, and the blankets are actually from the Hess's barn. I believe they're intended for horses." He shot Bella a sly grin that Bella couldn't help but return as she watched Quil try and brush the fair horse hairs from his dark clothes.

Embry seem more nonplussed about the entire situation. Then again, he was wearing a white polo shirt and jeans – both of which seem to camouflage whatever hair he was currently covered in. "Relax man, chicks dig that whole 'rugged' thing. If anyone asks, tell 'em you have a new puppy or something."

Both boys chuckled and Quil shot them an absolutely seething look. "I hate you all…" he muttered under his breath to a chorus of even more laughter.

"Don't worry, you'll air out while we drive."

"Fuck. You."

As Jake's and Quil's conversation descended into a verbal war of attrition, Bella began to fidget awkwardly in her seat. This was her first encounter with Embry since…well, the cliff _incident_, and she didn't know him well enough to read him yet. Was he still mad at her beneath the calm façade? She couldn't blame him – she had almost gotten him killed. Either way, she owed him an apology. "Hey Embry, I just want to say--"

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "I'm over it," he said quickly. "And I never wish to discuss it again."

"But--"

"Over it," he repeated sharply, but the corner of his mouth twitched just slightly, a mischievous look giving away his current disposition. "I don't want your apologies. However, there will be a time in the future when I will need your help…" He let the threat hang ominously in the air.

Bella shrugged, realizing that, with his forgiveness, a tiny weight had lifted off her shoulders – one she hadn't been aware of until it was gone. Jake's fingers found their way around her hand and he gave it a reassuring squeeze, shooting her a comforting look as if to say, _See, told you it was all going to be okay, _all the while continuing to hurl insults at Quil. She returned the squeeze without thinking about it. "Well I'm not too good at moving bodies," she called back out the window to Embry. "But beyond that, I owe you one."

He threw back his head and laughed manically, the wind whipping about his hair as he cackled like a mad scientist, fingers tented a la Mr. Burns. At least, he did until Quil picked that moment to lunge across the truck bed and sucker-punch him in the gut. "Stop doing that," he told his friend, while Embry tried to push him off and gasp for air at the same time. "That's the second time this week you've gone for the evil laugh. It's not funny, it's not creepy, and you're too smart to be a super villain. It's just not going to happen. Stop trying."

"Where, exactly, does Dr. Doom come from then?" Embry wheezed. Quil took another pot shot at him, apparently trying to rid himself of his earlier frustrations with his so called "friends."

"Hey," Jake shrieked back through the open window. "Knock it off. Don't make me come back there!" He swerved in his lane in an effort to keep Quil from going over the side and onto the pavement.

"Jeez, _Dad_..."

"I swear to God, Quil, I will J-Turn into oncoming traffic and I will do so in a way that ensures that you die worst!" he threatened ominously. Bella and the boys all ceased what they were doing to stare at him peculiarly.

"Shit, man…" Embry settled back into the bed of the truck.

"Too far, Jake," Quil, too, retreated to his side, shaking his head in disappointment. "You always have to take it one step too far."

"I know," Bella found herself agreeing. "I mean, you're going to make a terrifying parent one day if that's how you keep things under control…" She could barely keep peals of laughter from breaking through her serious façade. "Seriously, I'm talking irrevocably scarring your future offspring."

"You're going to make that same threat one day and Little Jake is going to go to school the next day and flip out cause his friends were playing with Matchbox cars too violently," Quil elaborated.

"Then he's going to spent the next ten years wetting his bed, waking up from dreams he can't quite remember, but always with the smell of car exhaust fresh in his nose," Embry finished, his head hung down, voice low in disappointment.

Jake gaped at them through the rear view mirror, mouth hanging open. They all stared back, disapproving and solemn. Bella clamped her teeth down on her own tongue, trying to keep a straight face. In the end it was Quil who broke first, doubling over in explosive laughter. She lost it after that, sputtering and choking at the horror painted all over Jake's face. Her glared at her indignantly, but that only made her laugh harder. Embry reached through the window and held out a fist. She bumped it enthusiastically.

"Dicks," Jake muttered. "You're all total dicks." He leaned over and poked Bella in the ribs, and she swatted his hand away. "Never thought I'd have to lump you into that category."

"Well, that's what you get," Bella admonished him, wiping away the tears that we trickling down her face. "You should've told me there was a dress code. And speaking of which, where are we going exactly?"

* * *

Bella scowled at the banner hanging over the gym doors at the Quileute Tribal School, proudly proclaiming that tonight was the night of the annual Spring Dance.

"C'mon Bella, don't be like that," Jake pleaded. Bella folded her arms sulkily and continued to glare at him. He started to squirm under her gaze. "Okay, I know how this looks, but you have to believe me: this is not the reason I dragged you out here tonight." She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he visibly winced. "Okay, it's not the _only _reason I dragged you out here tonight. Better?"

"A little," she conceded, trying to stay angry at Jake but failing. He looked so sheepish with his crooked tie and embarrassed smile. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood tonight."

"Then thank God for small miracles!" Quil cried, leaping out of the truck bed, as Jake maneuvered it to a spot at the back of the parking lot. "Now would the two of you quit bitching about your insignificant, little problems? Some of us have bigger things to worry about."

"Like what?"

"Like anteing up," Embry explained, looking positively gleeful at the prospect of whatever Quil was facing. "Have fun…" In return, Quil ceremoniously flipped them the bird and stalked off across the lot before Bella even managed to get her seatbelt undone.

"So wait," she said as the rest of them piled out of the truck and started making the long walk around to the gym. "Let me get this straight: we're only here because Quil lost a bet, and not because Jake is a conniving jerk who hates me?"

Embry nodded. "Pretty much."

"What kind of bet?"

Embry and Jake shot each other furtive glances over the top of her head. "Um…it involves words I'm not comfortable saying around you," Jake finally admitted, his face screwed up awkwardly. "Just keep in mind the fact that Quil is a sick, sick guy and leave it at that."

Bella shuddered involuntarily. "Yeah, on second thought I probably don't want to know. But what does him losing a bet have to do with us being here?"

"Winner got to pick the losers' punishment," Embry explained, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. They entered the fray leading into the school and were greeted with the standard high school dance fares: streamers and a DJ. "Alex decided that Quil would have to make a public appearance at the dance, with Alex's older sister as his date. She just got back from her first year at university like two days ago."

Bella gaped at him. "That's…wow, that's wrong on so many levels. What possesses a guy to treat his sister like that? And why the hell would she agree to something like this? And doesn't showing up with an older woman…I don't know, score Quil man-points or something? How exactly is that a punishment?"

"Alex's sister is…well, she's kind of a big girl," Embry explained, now looking as uncomfortable as Jake. "Like, really big. Alex thinks it'll make Quil look like an ass. And she probably agreed to it because she always kinda had a thing for him, we think." He shrugged again.

Bella felt her mouth drop open, at a complete loss for words. "That's horrible." She turned around to glare at Jake. "How can you let them treat her like that? Why didn't you stop this?"

He held up his hands, warding off her growing wrath. "Hey, it's not like we didn't try. But I'm not Alex's mom or Quil's – there's only so much I can do. Besides, Quil didn't seem too worried and…hey, where are you going?" he shouted as Bella whirled around and stormed off into the crowd.

"To do what you won't, and put a stop to this before that poor girl's feelings get hurt in a very public way!" she shouted back over her shoulder. She heard the series of angry yelps behind her as Jake and Embry pushed along after her. But the music was growing louder now as Bella worked her way deeper through the throngs of bodies, and so were the voices.

The cat calls and jeers of a dozen screaming teenagers were coming through with increasingly clarity, and Bella began to worry that she was already too late. "Excuse me, 'cuse me, 'cuse me," she muttered under her breath, pushing people out of her way until she emerged into the open. For the second time in as many minutes, she felt her jaw drop.

The hollering, jeering kids were fringed about in a lose semi-circle, and there in its center was Quil, who looked like he was having the time of his life, dancing with a voluptuous girl in a screaming red dress. She was a good inch or two taller than him, even without the heels that were making Bella's feet ache by proxy, and when Quil spun her around her face split in a lip-sticked smile fit to split her face in two. With more coordination that Bella would've given him credit for, Quil spun her back into his arms then out in the opposite direction, and the crowd let loose with another cacophony of hoots and hollers. The couple in the center just laughed and ate the whole thing up. They didn't look like they needed saving.

Actually, they looked like they were having the time of their lives.

Huffing and puffing, Jake and Embry eventually emerged through the crowd behind her. "Jesus, he's such a ham," Embry muttered, shaking his head while they watched their friend bust a move. "Boy loves a crowd..."

Bella just shook her head in disbelief. "I tried to tell you not to worry," Jake said, pressing his lips close to her ear to be heard over the music and the crowd. "Quil's a lot of things but cruel's not one of them."

"I stand corrected," Bella muttered back to him. "But I can't believe that's the girl you were talking about. I mean, she's a bombshell. Am I missing something?"

Jake just shook his head and shrugged. "Nope, she looks great. I guess college has been good to her. Her brother doesn't look too pleased, though." Jake jerked his head to the left, and Bella spotted the difference immediately – the young man was the only one in the crowd not laughing. His look soured considerably as the song drew to a close, and Quil's dance partner grabbed him by the tie, yanked him up to her level, and planted a kiss on him. Bella found herself laughing and cheering with the rest when she finally released him, and Quil rocked back on his heels. The song finally over, the couple gave exaggerated stage bows, laughing as the crowd dispersed.

Jake grabbed Bella's hand and led him over to the weary couple, clapping Quil on the shoulder. "You sneaky bastard – you two totally planned this."

"Um, duh," he shot back. "Who knew a midnight dance session could lead to the ultimate revenge?"

"Someone had to publicly upstage my brother," the other girl agreed. "It seemed like the opportune moment. The kiss was a total ad-lib though."

"Speaking of which, dude, you got a little…right here…and here…" Embry added helpfully, pointing at Quil's face and sporting a huge smirk.

"Yeah, thanks." Quil wiped at his cheek with his middle finger.

"Manners, boys," Quil's date reminded them both affectionately. "I mean, Jake manages to get an actual girl through the door with him and no one even bothers to introduce me..."

"Sorry, I was too busy being blinded by your dress," Jake said sarcastically. "Were you shopping in the dark?"

She raised a warning finger at him. "Hey, I'm not gonna take that crap from a kid in a clip-on tie."

Jake only chuckled in response. "This is my friend, Bella Swan," he said by way of introduction. "Bella," he said, holding out his hand to Quil's date. "This is ever stylish Claire Young."

* * *

**A/N:** I've been a bad author lately, all in the process of trying to be a good law student, and for that I apologize. Mock Trial is something of a life consuming right of passage for any of us hoping to practice one day, and it turns out my partner and I were pretty good. We finished something like 5th out of 28 teams – not bad for a couple kids whose full extent of court room experience comes from textbook readings and watching Law and Order. But the downside to doing well is that you keep going longer in the tournament. So every time I sat down to write got turned into sitting down to do witness prep, etc. So I'm sorry for the delay, and I want to thank you all for the over abundance of patience and support you've shown. It means a lot, and I'm privileged to have such awesome readers.

As always, thanks to Blue and Ceci for their time and skills. And to Sarah for her inspirational quotes (Douglas Adams FTW ;)

Also, if any of you are interested, I recently had the twisted privileged of doing a podcast over at A Different Forest on what it's like to be a Team Jake girl playing in a Team Edward girl. The link to the podcast is in my profile (be warned, you have to sit through ten minutes of drunken rambling at the start, but it's thoroughly entertaining, I promise). I also have the link to ADF up there as well, which is a great social Twisite for members of any team, and is definitely worth checking out. Thanks again, guys!


	12. Chapter 12

Bella splashed water on her face from one of the kid-sized sinks in the gym bathroom, grateful that it was empty. The last thing she needed was for someone to catch her talking to herself. "Okay," she told her reflection in the cracked, industrial mirror as she roughly dried her skin with a handful of paper towels. "It's cool, it's fine. I'm fine. The whole, entire world is freaking fine."

Her reflection, flushed and damp, didn't look like it believed a word she was saying.

"Shit." She hurled the wadded paper towels at the garbage can in the corner with shaking hands, missing it by a foot, and honestly not caring.

Beneath the heart-palpitating reaction that her realities colliding always seemed to generate though, something else was eating at her. She'd been promised a normal, boringly average night. And not that any of this was Jake's fault, but she somehow felt as though she'd been cheated. She still wasn't sure how, or why, she knew things she shouldn't. Whether it was a symptom of the damage to her brain, or her overactive imagination, or the fact that she was just insane, it didn't really matter. Bella was more concerned-- no, more irritated-- that whatever the source, it seemed bent on thwarting her at every turn. Was one night of normalcy really too much to ask, after all she'd already been through?

"It's okay," she told her reflection again. This time the girl in the mirror seemed to take the words to heart a bit more. After all, it wasn't as though a troupe of newborn vampires had come charging through the gym doors. Emily just happened to have a niece that was older than Bella had previously thought. "No big deal." Her reflection agreed with a self assured nod, the kind that Bella always associated with her mother.

Years ago, when Renee had first transferred to a new school district in Phoenix and was chafing under the rules of a new administration, she'd painted a big mural across the wall in her bedroom. Squarely in the center of it she'd written in big, block letters: _We Make Our Own Happiness_.

"Why?" Bella had asked her, coming home from school to find her mother covered in paint, admiring her handiwork.

Bella remembered the way her mother had thrown an arm across her shoulder, permanently staining her new winter coat with purple and gold streaks. "Because it means that we're responsible for how we see the world. We're the masters of our destinies, Bella. Not my boss, not your teachers. Us. And sometimes I need to be reminded of that."

Bella's reflection sported a half-smile in the mirror, and Bella took comfort in the memories of her mom. She couldn't help but think that Renee would've approved of Jake's plan tonight. She'd always had a thing for spontaneity.

And, occasionally, she also gave really sound advice too. Bella laid her hands flat against the sink, taking deep breaths until her shaking fingers finally stilled. The girl in the mirror smiled a little bit more as Bella silently declared that she had earned this evening. True, dancing was not her thing, but she had earned one night to just be a normal person, with normal concerns. And she wasn't going to let one little bump in the road take that from her.

"It's okay," she told her reflection one time. And this time, she believed herself.

Mostly.

* * *

"You alright?" Jake was waiting for her outside the bathroom door. "You took off kinda fast back there."

"Sorry, too much to drink," she said, flashing him the same smile she'd given herself just moments ago. But it must have flickered slightly because Jake caught it.

"Something weird going on?"

"I…" She hesitated. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Embry forcing his way over to them through the crowd, and she was honestly grateful for the forthcoming interruption. "Nothing that needs worrying about tonight. After all, you promised."

His mouth moved silently for a second, as if he was considering further protest. But the look on his face calmed and mirrored her own. "You're right. We've got plenty of tomorrows to deal with that."

"What, planning your wedding?" Embry muttered sourly, catching the tail end of the conversation.

Jake shot him a dark look. "Screw you, Call."

"Don't worry. Quil's got you covered there."

He shrugged. "Let it go, dude. Honestly, it could be worse."

Bella took a break from wallowing in the weirdness of everything to laugh darkly. "Oh, you have _no _idea…" Jake shot her a look, and she got a feeling she'd be explaining that one later.

Embry was oblivious to their silent exchange. "Seriously though, at first I thought it was just an act to piss off Alex," he said, eyebrows raised. "But this is getting a little cradle-robbery, don't you think?"

"Just so long as someone reminds Claire that 16'll get her 20," Jake sighed. Embry's look instantly soured.

"Which is what I'll be doing the rest of the night. If you'll excuse me…" He pushed past Jake and disappeared back out into the crowd, forlornly.

Bella was instantly sympathetic. "Wow, we have got to find him a girlfriend…"

"No kidding." Jake looked at his watch. "But something tells me we're not going to be able to do that before the clock tolls and we turn back into pumpkins. And, by 'turn into pumpkins,' of course I mean before we have to bail and undertake the next leg of our little adventure. But I promise, before the night is over and wasted we will get around to the real reason I dragged you out here. Promise."

She just scoffed at him sarcastically. "Liar. I'm still fully convinced this was just a ploy because you didn't have a date and you knew I was weak willed." She poked him in the arm. "Confess!"

With ninja reflexes Jake snatched her poking hand and jerked her around in a loop and squarely into his arms. "You got me. And since the jig is up, it's only right that I make this night even more clichéd and painful for you, Bella." His grin was enigmatic and sly, and she instantly knew what he meant.

"Jacob Black, don't you dare…"

But it was too late. One of Jake's hands found the small of her back, the other wound fingers with her own. And, in one fell swoop, he pulled her out into the crowd of dancing teens. Decidedly out of time with the music he gave them an exaggerated twirl before settling into a slow, rocking motion that even Bella was able to keep time with.

He grinned wickedly, and despite herself Bella was unable to do anything but mirror it. "You know, you're pretty light on your feet for a grease monkey," she told him.

"Ha!" he practically barked, looking a little sheepish. "Actually Mom and Rachel loved watching those ballroom dance competitions when I was little. Not that '_Dancing with Famous People No One Cares About Any More_' type crap, but the real pros on PBS. Rach went through this phase where she wanted to be a dancer, so she'd put on these dress up clothes and Mom's heels and parade around the living room. And Mom used to get on her knees and be her partner…"

His voice trailed off, lost somewhere in the din of the music, and his eyes had taken on that faraway quality they'd had on the beach all those days ago. But this time the memories were happy, and the smile stayed etched on his face. "I remember I was always so upset 'cause it was usually on when I wanted to watch baseball, but I guess I must have picked up a few things by osmosis." He chuckled to himself, and it seemed to draw him back into the present. "I haven't thought about that in years," he told Bella, looking at her, embarrassed.

"It's the little things, right?"

Jake just laughed again. "Yeah, I guess. Mom would be proud that I'm putting all those moves to good use, too." He winked at her, and before Bella could ask what the hell he was planning to do, Jake rolled her in his arms and dipped her over. She felt her fingers instinctively dig into his back and cling to whatever they could find as the world shifted alignment. He winced, but his arm was strong beneath her, and Bella instantly realized she wasn't going anywhere. A heartbeat later he pulled her upright.

"What?" he teased. "Thought I was going to drop you?"

Bella jerked her hand out of his and slapped him on the shoulder in response. "That wasn't funny."

"Are you kidding? I thought that was suave as hell!" he protested smugly. "Don't most girls usually like that sort of thing?"

"Well, most girls don't have the same sordid history with gravity that I do," Bella hissed in response.

"Touché," he conceded. Jake didn't seem to think that the situation had been as dangerous as she had, however, and he recaptured her hand in his own. Throughout their entire exchange they'd continued to twirl in lazy circles – two bodies caught in the same celestial orbit. Instinctively, her hand remained curled around his shoulder, his arm ensnared her waist. They drifted while Bella regained her composure, and it wasn't until the other couples started looking at them strangely that Bella realized the music had long ago changed. She went to untangle herself from him, but Jake held her fast.

"C'mon," she said, pulling away. "The music--"

"So?" he shrugged, and his smile wavered just slightly. "I'm not ready to stop dancing yet."

"Everyone is staring at us."

Again, he twirled them around. "Who cares?" he demanded with a grin. "You're already crazy, remember?"

"You really want me to hit you again, don't you?"

He chuckled softly, and his grip on her loosened, letting Bella slip through his fingers. "No violence necessary," he said softly. "Just trying to monopolize as much of your time as possible. You're actually not a bad dancer."

"We've got a whole summer for that," she assured him. "I can promise you I plan to monopolize as much of your time as humanly possible. At least this way you're forewarned. And you can give me that dancing comment again tomorrow, after your toes have turned purple from all the times I stepped on them."

"Oh, just shut up and take the compliment already." He bumped against her shoulder, smiling when she bumped back. "You're such a girl sometimes."

"Hey, you're the one who put me in the dress with that whole 'we're gonna be late and I'm a big, secretive man so I don't have to tell you anything' thing you did back at my house."

Rather than laughing at her botched attempt at a male voice however, Jake suddenly looked at his watch. "Shit, I'm just late all over the place tonight. We gotta boogie to our next destination. Just stay here," he told her over the music. "I'm gonna go grab the lovebirds and their parole officer."

Bella watched him disappear into the crowd, feeling strangely alienated without him pressed up against her. Jake had been….at least she had imagined him to be, an incredibly tactile person. In reality he was no different. From that first moment when he'd taken her hand in the hospital bed, there had just been something about his touch that felt anchoring, like it was keeping her here on the ground, where she belonged. Normally Bella wasn't one to get to close to people, but Jake was the exception to that rule. He was always grabbing her hand, or throwing an arm around her. It felt normal when he did. It shouldn't surprise her that she'd miss that when he wasn't there, but it did, and Bella shivered at the thought.

_No_, she told herself silently. _Don't go down that road, not here, not now. There's already been enough weirdness tonight._ Air - that was what she needed. Fresh air and a chance to clear her head, push all those…those compulsions from the time "before" to the back of her mind and just have one normal evening.

Bella stumbled to the double doors at the end of the gym, blind to the rest of the world, only for a shove to catch her from the left. "Oops, my bad," said a girl wearing a green dress and a venomous look as Bella ricocheted off the wall, miraculously staying on her feet. She glared at Bella for a second too long before storming through the door herself, friends in tow. Bella let them go, utterly bewildered, and waited a moment before going out the doors behind them. The girl in green and a buddy were climbing into a vehicle that could only charitably be called a car, laughing loudly.

"What the hell?" she muttered under her breath. To her left, someone chuckled. Bella whipped around, expecting to get hip checked again, only to find Leah Clearwater leaning against the faded brick wall, lighting up a smoke and wearing a smug look.

"You're Charlie's kid, right?" she said behind cupped hands, trying to keep the perpetually wet Washington winds from putting her lighter out. She looked Bella up and down snidely, her own jeans and hoodie making it clear that she wasn't here for the dance.

"Yeah." Bella put her hands on her hips and tried to look equally intimidating, but her attempt didn't seem to hit home.

"What's got your panties in a twist?"

She rolled her eyes and jerked her chin at the junker that was screaming out of the back of the parking lot. "Just wondering what I seemed to do tonight to piss off a girl that I've never even seen before, and--"

Leah interrupted her with another laugh, partaking in a joke that only she seemed to get. "C'mon kid, you're not naive." She exhaled into the evening air and watched the smoke fade away. "Jacob Black is a good student, he's got an actual future ahead of him, he's not addicted to anything you can snort or shoot, he has no known children to speak of, and he's easy on the eyes. By La Push standards, that makes him a catch. And he showed up at the school dance with a white girl. You can't expect that not to step on a few toes now, can you?"

Bella felt the flush crawl up into her cheeks, leaving her utterly mortified. "We're just friends," she told Leah bluntly, racking her brains for any other response than that. But for the first time all night she felt horrifically out of place, and wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and hide.

"Okay, well, you go tell the girl who just tried to kill you with her eyes that you and Black are 'just friends,' then you let me know how that goes, alright?"

Bella slumped down against the wall beside her, no longer caring about Leah's attitude or her own lack of composure. The girl had a point, now that she thought about it; the eyes in the room had all seemed to make it abundantly clear that she didn't belong here. And she wasn't anything to Jake. He'd been so good to her the past few months – the last thing she wanted to do was stand in the way of someone who might be able to fill that romantic void for him. She'd…she'd already broken him once in her lifetime.

She had no desire to do it again.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes up at Leah, suddenly curious about her defensive tone. "Is that your way of saying that I'm stepping on _your _toes?"

To her surprise, Leah laughed again. Not derisively or with malice this time, but an actual genuine laugh. "Sweetie, I already got one big Indian boy to worry about. My hands are full enough without another hanging around." She crushed the last remnants of her cigarette beneath the heel of her boot. "As far as I'm concerned, the kid's all yours. Just thought you deserved to know where you stood around here is all."

"Wait, you and Sam are--" Bella started to ask without thinking. She bit down on her own tongue – hard – but it was too late.

Leah looked surprised. "Yeah, Sam's my boyfriend. You know him?" she cocked a graceful eyebrow at her.

Bella didn't know what to say. Had no one said anything? So many people had seen what happened…had seen Jake jump Sam. Hadn't Leah wondered why? Then, with a sinking realization, Bella understood. Of course no one had told her about Sam, not on the day when she was saying goodbye to her father. Sometimes there's a fine line between honesty and cruelty.

Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

And so Bella bit her tongue and thought through the words before they exploded out of her mouth, and when she finally answered it wasn't the disaster it could've been. "My Dad pointed him out to me at…well, you know."

There was no way around that one, but Leah also refrained from asking any more questions – a blessing in disguise. Bella was just about to excuse herself before she could do any real damage when Jacob and his entourage walked through the doors.

"There you are! I asked you to stay inside by the door, so of course that means I should look for you outside." He smacked the palm of his hand against his forehead sarcastically. "Duh!" Bella stuck her tongue out at him, the only response she could think of to his scintillating wit. Jake just extended a hand to her in response, hauling her gracelessly to her feet as Leah watched, impatience marring her features.

"You're late, Black," she chirped, tucking something into her purse.

Jake rolled his eyes in exasperation, gesturing to where Quil, Embry, and Claire were standing behind him. "Sorry, I've got a lot of fires going tonight. Cut me some slack."

Bella watched the exchange with rapt attention as Jake pulled her towards the back parking lot. "Wait, ishe'si our next little adventure tonight?" She wasn't sure how much more time she really wanted to spend with the most sullen member of the Clearwater clan.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Jake murmured under his breath.

They rounded the corner, and immediately all three boys stopped short. Jake had crammed the truck into the back corner of the lot. Nearby, a few kids seemed to be hanging around another car. A few were straddling bikes. Nothing major.

So Bella was surprised when Embry turned to Jake and asked, "What's your bullshit tolerance at tonight?"

"Low," Jake replied, looking grim.

"Yeah," Embry muttered. "That's what I figured."

Jake shot Bella a pained smile. "Sit tight, we'll bring the chariot to you guys."

"Um, sure." The guys took off across the lot, and when they were out of earshot Bella turned to Claire. "What the hell was that?"

Claire shrugged, sending her hair spilling down across her back. "No clue."

"They meth-heads, cupcake," Leah interjected sarcastically, her look dripping with distain at her companions' apparent lack of worldliness. Despite herself, Bella shivered. "Welcome to La Push. What, Jake only shows you the nice parts of the rez?"

"Oh, holy melodrama, Batman." Claire rolled her eyes. "There's really no need for you to be an ass to everyone, is there?"

Leah's knuckles went white around the straps of her purse. "Hey, I didn't ask you to tag along. You'll have to excuse me for not changing my mood so that you can chase jailbait tonight."

"Yeah. Nice to see you again too, by the way. And what is this little endeavor, exactly?" Claire asked, her voice calmer than Leah's. Silently, Bella wondered what had happened to cause such a sudden friction between the two women. Since nothing of note had happened tonight, she assumed it must be an old argument. Blood stirred by ripping off a band-aid.

"Jake owes me a favor."

"For what?"

"For not asking why he tried to beat the snot out of my boyfriend at my father's funeral." Bella blanched at her harsh tone, but Claire seemed unfazed. "Of course you'd already know that if--"

"And what exactly is that favor he owes you?" At that exact moment, Jake brought the truck screaming around the corner and threw the door open.

"Ladies, your chariot awaits!" Quil proclaimed from the back.

Leah shot her cousin an icy look. "He owes me a ride." She slid into the cab next to Bella and slammed the door shut. "But it's a little tight in here – looks like you'll have to ride in the back if you want tag along."

* * *

"Where in God's name are we?" Claire asked as the passengers piled out of the truck, those riding in the bed looking slightly disheveled. The drive seemed to take forever, stretching over miles on back roads without street signs or lights. Eventually asphalt gave way to dirt paths that probably lacked names as well. But Jake seemed to know where he was going, as if it were instinctual.

"No clue," Bella muttered. Leah sidled out of the cab behind her with lanky grace, her trademark scowl still in place.

"You of all people should know where we are, Swan." She brushed past her roughly, making her way across the grass like she knew every footstep by heart. "You've been here before, too."

"I have?" She closed the door to the cab, cutting the lights and bathing the group in the kind of blackness that only exists when civilization disappears for miles in every direction. Far from the glare of headlights and houses, the night was as thick as a blanket that had been pulled over her eyes.

Bella was immediately grateful when she felt someone grope for her hand in the darkness. "C'mon, it's not _that _hard to remember, is it?" Jake asked. "Mud pies and nightcrawlers? Charlie used to bring you here to fish when we were little, remember?"

"What, here?" But as they walked Bella could distinctly make out the sound of rushing water somewhere in front of them. It was barely visible in the dark, the way the branch of the river broke through the trees and around the bend into the pine grove. But the sound made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up ever so slightly. There were ghosts here too, echoes of childish laughter long snuffed beneath the weight of adult problems. Deep in her gut she had that feeling of coming home after being gone a long, long time. Against her will she recalled the way that same feeling had touched her as her footsteps broached a ballet studio she had not actually been to in years, and Bella shuddered.

"Cold?" Jake asked, feeling the shiver pass through her fingers and into him. Before Bella could explain he'd shrugged off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. "It was my grandfather's," he explained at they trudged across the damp grass. "He flew helicopters in Korea." His finger brushed against one of the patches on the sleeve with light reverence.

"I'll be careful with it," she promised, pulling the worn leather tightly around herself, the breeze pulling the earthy scent of the hide into her nose. For something with so much history behind it, it felt very light around her narrow frame. She took Jake's hand again and they hurried after the rest of the group.

The others were already waiting impatiently when they reached the edge of the river, where the grass gave way to damp soil and loose stone. "Clearwater," Quil barked in frustration. He'd walked too close to the water in the dark, and was now wet up to his ankles. "You gonna tell us what the hell we're doing here?"

"Aside from getting you a much needed bath?" she shot back, cooly. Her voice drifted over from somewhere off to the left. "I'm here to do one last thing for my dad. So try and keep your panties on."

"What's Harry got to do with this?"

Leah sighed, and Bella could just barely make out her frame as her eyes began to adjust. "Dad was a great traditionalist, a good Council member. But he was also a horrible claustrophobe."

"I don't follow," Quil said. "What does your dad having a fear of closets have to do with us being out here in the middle of nowhere?" Everyone turned to gape at him silently, an empty gesture since he was unable to see the majority of their faces. But he flinched under the silent wave of negativity that washed over him. "What?!"

"Claustrophobia is the fear of enclosed spaces, you moron," Embry told him harshly. In the dark Bella could practically feel his eyes seeking out hers.

"You don't need me to back you up on this, Embry," she said in exasperation. "Buy him a dictionary!"

"Touche."

"Guys!" Jake raised his voice over the fracas, and the voices softened to murmurs. He gripped Bella's hand tightly, and she could practically feel the tension emanating from him. She squeezed back in response, a reassuring gesture. The loss of one of his mentors was still fresh to him, and the guy's usual shenanigans stung more than usual, a personal affront. "Leah, why are we really here?"

By the light of the half moon, Leah dug through her purse. Bella expected her to come out with a wilted pack of cigarettes, but instead something glinted opaquely in her palm. "Dad couldn't fathom being buried, even after he'd shuffled off the mortal coil. He had his will changed after his--" Leah hesitated, taking another deep breath. "After the first heart attack. He wanted to be cremated. The Council had a fit. They wanted to do the whole burial ceremony, but Mom wouldn't have any of it. They finally compromised with her and she agreed to spread his ashes at James Island, so he could be among the chiefs in the next world."

She shook her head, black hair swimming against a black profile. "I tried to tell Mom that wasn't where he'd want to… to be, you know. But she said the least we could do was keep to _some _traditions." Her voice trailed off, softer than before, like Leah was talking to herself instead of a group of five overdressed kids in the middle of nowhere. "I got so mad when she wouldn't listen that I just…" her voice trailed off, and she finished the story with a shrug. Bella tried to put the broken pieces of Leah's logic together along with the jar, but someone else beat her to it.

"Holy shit, you stole your Dad's ashes?" Claire asked in disbelief.

Even through the darkness Bella could feel the sneer that Leah aimed at the girl. "Not all of them," she countered. "Just enough so that…so part of him could be at his favorite spot. _This _is where he'd want to be." She shook the jar back and forth in her hand to stir the powder inside. A baby food container holding the last remnants of the most important man in her life – Bella hoped that somewhere Harry was finding this all hilarious.

"But I couldn't tell Mom about it, so I couldn't get the car. And I couldn't very well ask your dads to come like my dad would've wanted." Leah jerked her head in Jake's and Bella's general direction. "So I needed your wheels and for you guys to act as stand-ins, which is why I dragged your sorry asses out here. The rest of you are just icing on the cake, I guess. But Claire gets a do-over, so at least there's that." The last words were loaded with more anger than Bella could process, but part of her couldn't blame Leah. It was her ceremony that they'd interrupted. Still, the venom she directed at her cousin spoke of problems that ran deeper that Claire simply showing up uninvited.

"Sorry, Leah, this was the best I could do without knowing more," Jake told her, his voice apologetic, but carrying a loaded warning to the others to lay off. "I'd already made commitments, and you didn't give me much to go on. But we're all glad to be here." He shot the others a warning look over his shoulder that clearly said they'd better act like it, too.

Leah didn't seem to take his reassurances to heart. "Whatever," she whispered harshly, the night winds carrying her voice away. "I just want to get this over with."

For a ceremony, the entire thing turned out to be a fairly unceremonious affair. Bella had expected Leah to want to say something to her late father, or for Jake to say something maybe. But Leah seemed focused, driven, as if her only goal was just to get the ashes to the place that had been her father's – all their fathers' – refuge. Her goodbyes had been said already, ad nauseum. Now she was goal oriented. Her father was already gone; she just wanted to finish what she'd come to do.

Leah clambered up a rocky outcropping that bordered the bend in the river. With a steady hand she uncapped the jar, and, after a brief pause, upended the ashes into the trickling water. A smoky cloud against the piercing darkness, the group watched silently as the particles, the pieces, drifted and settled and scattered until they were finally swallowed up by the water.

For a long time nobody spoke, at first out of reverence, and then because they weren't sure what the appropriate thing to say actually was. The last of Leah's father, his actual, atomic existence, was currently being swept out to sea. Were they supposed to pray? Should someone give her a hug? A hand? None of the possibilities seemed right, so Bella and the others just kept their silent vigil, unwilling to disturb Leah as she started into the water, just watching.

Then, at long last, something finally pierced the veil around them. "So, what happens to ashes once they get scattered? I mean, have any of you ever wondered?" Quil's face was solemn as he posed the question to no one in particular. "I mean, do fish eat 'em or something? You gotta admit. It's weird to think that months from now we might tear into a cod and digest part of Harry and – OW!"

Bella felt, rather than saw, Embry clock his friend in the shoulder. "You are such an asshole sometimes, you know that?"

"Relax, dude, I was just trying to break the silence."

To their utter surprise, it was Leah's chuckle that broke up the imminent tussle. "I have no idea, Quil. But I'll sleep a little better each night, knowing that you're worrying about it." And with that she plopped down onto one of the big, wide rocks and stared out into the distance.

* * *

Leah hadn't moved in close to an hour, and no one was really sure what to do about it. It didn't seem right to try and talk her into leaving, and she didn't seem interested in going anywhere. So she sat there, and the others just watched, and waited.

The guys fiddled, mostly just looking for something to do. After a while they seemed content on gathering sticks and trying to get a campfire going because, as Embry put it, "when in doubt, burn something."

Jake pulled aside some undergrowth and revealed a rock-lined pit that looked as though it had been dug years ago. In the back of her mind a shaky reel of film played: Bella looking up at the world through much lower eyes, holding fish on a stick. Charlie's voice called her somewhere in the background, and she smiled up at him, promptly shoving the meat into the coals and setting it ablaze. Someone tapped her on the shoulder as the memory dimmed, and she took the tinder that Embry handed her and set about making herself useful.

If Leah heard the talking or the occasional snippet of laughter behind her, she never showed it. She perched on the rock by the water's edge, and there she seemed content to remain, a silent sentinel over her father's favorite place. And one by one she was eventually joined. At one point, Quil walked over and bent down to whisper in her ear. She let him bum a cigarette off her, and in return she took the flask he surreptitiously slipped from his pocket and into her hand. Embry approached her next, and while Leah searched through her bag for her lighter, his hand lingered on her shoulder. She didn't seem to mind its presence there. In fact, she didn't seem to mind their presence at all, or their interruptions. She just seemed content to stay put.

It was like she was waiting for something.

While Quil bemoaned the fact that arson in Washington required forethought because everything was "always fucking wet," Jake braved the climb out to the rocky precipice and perched beside her on his haunches. Bella watched them out of the corner of her eye. Jake was speaking in a voice too low to be heard, but for the first time Leah's face showed the slightest reaction as his words seemed to wash over her. The lines in her forehead softened, and she looked away from him abruptly. And then, for a long time they just sat there, like old friends grown apart, and pondered the loss of the one thing that had united them in this world. It was so intensely personal, so intimate, that Bella finally had to look away. She knew what it was like to carry a pain like that – silently and alone. It wasn't her place to intrude on anyone else's.

After much swearing, and finally with Jake's help, the tiniest tongues of flame began to lick at the sticks and twigs that Embry had gathered, and light began to spread across the little clearing. Claire shivered visibly in the new light, and hunkered down by the flames though they were scarcely large enough to give off much heat. "Cold?"

"Freezing," Claire admitted. "I wasn't expecting the detour. I didn't dress appropriately."

Bella touched her bare shoulder, and shivered in response. "Jesus, you're like a cherry popsicle! Why didn't you say something? We should take you home."

Claire shook her head vehemently. Her dark eyes were wide in the firelight, capturing Bella's gaze and trying with all her might to convey something of importance. "I can last for a while longer," she assured her. "Bella, she needs this. We might not be the closest of family, but even I can recognize that…she needs to be here."

"Yeah, but you shouldn't have to freeze, either."

"You have any family Bella?" she asked in response. "I mean, beyond your mom and dad?" Perplexed, Bella just shook her head. "Then it's hard to explain. Leah and I may not be really tight, but if this is something that Leah needs time to work out, then I want her to have that. It's complicated but…that's just the way it is."

She reached out and patted Bella's hand, and a sudden compulsion ran through her with the touch. But it was more that a compulsion, it was a…a sudden realization. An understanding. For the first time in Leah she saw something that she recognized: herself.

Bella reached up and stripped off Jake's coat, and draped it around Claire's goose-bumped shoulders. "I'll be right back," she told her. "And be careful with that coat; it's a family heirloom."

"Where are you going?"

Bella stalked out across the grass. "To see if there's something I can do," she told Claire.

At the river's edge she climbed onto a rock and took off her borrowed shoes, dunking her feet into the icy water. It rushed around her ankles 'til her feet were numb. Beside her Leah continued to stare out at the horizon, occasionally taking a sip from Quil's flask. It occurred to Bella that she recognized the other girl's expression – it was the same one she'd been seeing in the mirror for all those months after she woke up.

"What are you looking for?" Bella finally asked her softly.

Leah shrugged silently, and for a while Bella was certain that was all the answer she was going to get. But then there was a sigh, a cough, a clearing of the throat, and Leah actually spoke. "I'm waiting for the switch to flip," she admitted. "I'm waiting for my damn miracle." Compulsively, she fumbled in the dark with a cigarette. Her fingers shook as she repeatedly flicked her cheap lighter, only for it to spark and die each time. "Fucking Call must as gotten it wet," she said thickly, putting it away shoving the unlit cigarette back into the pack.

Bella just continued to nod, but she had a feeling that the lack of flame had a lot more to do with how Leah's hands were shaking than it did with Embry's earlier use.

Leah just reached for the flask instead. "Everyone keeps telling me it's going to get better," she murmured, taking them both back to Bella's earlier question. "That he's at rest now, like that supposed to mean something to me." The latch on the flask rattled, along with her fingers. "But it hasn't. After the funeral…then after Mom took his ashes, I just kept waiting and waiting for this moment that everyone keeps talking about but it's just not here. It still hurts exactly the same, and I'm just so…fucking tired," she finally admitted.

Bella could only stare at her, but Leah refused to meet her eyes. "It doesn't go away like that," Bella told her softly, but she knew it was more than that. She was giving voice to something that had been building inside her for too long now. In reality, she was speaking to herself as much as she was to the girl before her. "It's not what you want to hear, and everyone just wants to give you hope and tell you it will all be okay, but this is the ugly truth: it's always going to hurt."

They weren't the same, her loss and Leah's. Bella was at least aware that there was a difference, even if her heart still wasn't. But the more startling realization that came to her while she joined Leah in scanning the horizon, waiting for a sign, was that while at one time she and Leah might have been opposite sides of the same mirror, they weren't anymore. Bella recognized what Leah was going through, but there was a difference now, subtle but there. She was farther down the road that Leah was just beginning to travel. She had…perspective, enough to realize that there was no switch, there was no miracle, that all the cigarettes and alcohol and painkillers and shrinks in the world couldn't make the hurting stop. There was only time and its ability to numb the wounds. There was no magic. There was no fix. And the only difference between them now was that Bella knew this, and it was a lesson that Leah still had to learn.

It was the closest thing to an epiphany that Bella had ever had.

"You've lost somebody?" Leah set the flask down, and it echoed emptily against the stone.

Bella hesitated. "Yes." She was relieved when Leah didn't ask any more. It would have been too hard to explain, too seemingly inconsequential to this girl who had lost so much more. Bella's love had been taken quickly, swiftly in the night. Leah's had been shattered with landmines – loud and obtrusive, drawing everyone's attention to her and scattering her pain in a million different directions to be witnessed and stepped on and eventually left in the gutter. Bella had mourned alone, her pain a secret that she had the choice to share with the people who could help her, with the Jakes of her world.

Leah never had that luxury. She was wounded, and everyone could see.

"Does it ever get better?" she finally asked Bella, her voice barely a whisper.

Bella had the overwhelming urge to take Leah's hand in her own. But while that might've been what she needed, it wasn't what Leah did. "A little bit," she said simply. "After a while it starts to fade, like it gets covered in scar tissue. But I don't think it ever goes away completely."

Leah was quiet for a long time after that, apparently processing what Bella had said. Sensing the moment, whatever had passed between them just now, was over, she pulled her feet out of the chilling water and back into her shoes. She was going to just slip away into the night, when Leah spoke one last time.

"Okay," she said, in a tone that sounded bone weary. "Okay." A single word, and just like that she pulled her eyes from the distant horizon, and looked at her own feet as she climbed precariously from off the rocks and began a slow trek back to the truck. And Bella followed, like so many ashes caught in her wake.

And it didn't seem fixed, but it all seemed…better, somehow. As if putting Leah's pain into context had somehow helped her make sense of her own. And like normal kids, they put out the fire and climbed into the truck and started down the road. They talked a little, they laughed a little, but everyone seemed more content with the actual silence then they had been before. It was like something calming and mending had settled onto the group, and they'd reached some kind of peace. An equilibrium.

It wasn't perfect. But it was…okay. Bella was okay. Leah would be okay. They would all be okay. And tonight that was enough, Bella decided.

And that was when Leah leaned out the window and promptly threw up on the side of the road.

* * *

**A/N:** May just be the grossest end to a chapter ever, but believe me it was the only logical place to divide the chapters ;) Nominations are now open for the Eddie and Bellie awards, so don't forget to go over there and show the pack some love. There's two categories aimed at us this year: The Wolfpack Award and the Edward Who? Award. So make sure you nominate some of your fellow J/B lovers: http://www[dot]thecatt[dot]net/tw/Nomination[dot]aspx

Also, at the behest of some of my Livejournal friends I finally caved and got a Twitter. Most of what I post is fic related stuff so if you're interested in seeing how chapters are progressing and stuff (especially if it takes a while between updates) then feel free to follow me: http://twitter[dot]com/Stretch2643. Hopefully this will also give me a chance to get to know my readers too. So send me a message and say "hi" so I know who you are ;)

As always, thanks to Blue and Ceci for their mad betaing skills. And thanks to all of you for reading.


	13. Chapter 13

"Try not to focus on how disgusting it is," Claire advised Bella, holding back Leah's hair and looking remarkably unperturbed by the sounds her cousin was making as she heaved into the toilet. "Instead, think of this as an advanced course in your freshman year of college. By the time you actually get there you'll be a real pro."

Bella groaned under her breath. She'd have been more than happy to allow the boys to drag Leah into the bathroom, but Claire had insisted that this was woman's work. "Part of the code of sisterhood, or something like that. A chick must never allow another chick to blow chunks in front of the guys, unless one of them is her boyfriend."

"And when one of them is her boyfriend?" Bella had dared to ask as they had half dragged, half carried Leah over the threshold and into her house.

"Then it's his problem."

Which is how Bella ended up sitting on the edge of the tub in the tiny Clearwater bathroom. Her stomach gave a sympathetic gurgle, and she decided right then and there that if this was the price of sisterhood, she was much better suited to handle the boys' club. When she didn't say anything, Claire eyed her nervously.

"On second thought, maybe this is a lesson best saved for another day," she said, deciding that one sick girl was enough for her to handle. "Why don't you go find her a bucket or something and put it in her room? I think we're almost done here."

It turned out to be a tougher job than originally anticipated, and all Bella managed to find was a plastic garbage can beneath the desk in Seth's room. His sister's bedroom was right next door. Bella had expected it to be a disaster, given Leah's obviously troubled emotional state, but it was quite the opposite. It was immaculate, everything neatly folded and placed and tucked away. She put the garbage can down and, looking at the tan carpet, considered getting a few towels just in case Leah's aim was bad. But before she could do anything, Claire appeared in the doorway, Leah listing awkwardly against her shoulder and looking strangely pale.

"Well, the good news is I think she's empty," Claire said as her cousin flopped into a graceless heap on the bed. "The bad news is she's still completely tanked. I have no idea what was in that flask, but whatever it was, it hit her hard. Quil's a moron…" she said with a strange amount of affection.

In bed, Leah giggled – a disturbing sound coming from her usually pursed lips. "Quil and Claire sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-S-S-S-G!" she chanted. Her head lolled backwards as she laughed at her own joke.

Claire just rolled her eyes and grabbed one of her cousin's booted feet, yanking at it roughly. "Sure, Leah, you just had to be a lightweight," she murmured. "Apparently I need to work on her tolerance before she goes away to school, too. You two are getting quite the crash course in higher education tonight." She winked at Bella and tossed her a boot.

"You know what?" Leah slurred. "You know what? What – what – what the hell is it with you and school, huh? Is it so good that you just, you just want to stay there and, you know, not be with your family? Huh? You love school more than Quil, and more than us, and more than, you know, more than, than…" Leah's rant trailed off, descending into a mess of inaudible syllables. Claire looked hurt though, and with the second boot in hand, she sat down on the edge of the bed and pushed the hair out of Leah's sweaty face.

"I'm sorry, Le Le," she said, with more seriousness than the drunk girl was probably capable of perceiving at the moment. "I know that's why you're pissed at me, but the school wouldn't excuse me, and it was exams week. I wanted to be here, I just…couldn't. And I know you probably won't remember this tomorrow, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry, okay?"

Leah's only response was to reach up and poke Claire in the nose. "Boop!"

Sighing with obvious frustration, Claire thrust the boot into Bella's waiting hands. "Here. I'm going to get her some water. Just make sure she doesn't try and stumble anywhere."

"Wait, what--" Bella started to protest, but Claire was already through the door and out of sight. She sighed – nurturing wasn't her strongest suit, mostly due to her lack of a strong stomach. She desperately hoped that Leah wouldn't blow again, otherwise she was likely to follow suit. Still, when Leah's soft breathing turned into a pained moan Bella couldn't help but feel bad for the girl.

She hovered by the edge of the bed awkwardly as Leah curled herself into a ball. Tentatively she rubbed her shoulder. "Deep breaths," she soothed. "It'll be okay." She turned, hoping to see Claire coming through the door, and when she looked back Leah was staring up at her strangely. "Are you gonna throw up again?" she asked, reaching for the can.

Leah giggled manically, her discomfort evidently passed or simply forgotten. Bella felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as the other girl grinned up at her, a smile more sinister than friendly. "Poor, poor, baby Bella," she chanted, her voice hoarse and broken. "My mother says you're possessed. Poor, poor Bella…" She laughed again, an eerie sound that rang through Bella's ears and felt as if it were boring straight into her brain. She jerked back from the bed like it was on fire.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, her voice nothing more than a harsh whisper. "What the hell are you talking about?!" But Leah just continued to laugh, too intoxicated, too far beyond reason, to answer.

Bella couldn't explain why, but her body felt like it was reacting on its own. Blood pounded behind her eyes as her entire system was flooded with adrenaline. She clenched her fists involuntarily, willing them to stop shaking and twitching, to no avail. She didn't know why, but she was suddenly deeply afraid. Afraid that Leah was right, afraid that Sue knew something she wasn't saying, afraid that she'd give in to the one thing she feared would lead her into madness: the belief that whatever was wrong with her wasn't rooted in science and medicine.

Once she had believed in monsters and magic – she'd had to. But they weren't real, not in this world. Not in her world. And yet she was plagued by nightmares full of things no human being should be able to know, to predict. What if she was looking for answers in the wrong place? What if, beneath the surface, something more than…normal was going on? Something that couldn't be explained in charts and graphs?

Bella wanted to be healthy. She wanted to be sane.

If she couldn't be that, she at least wanted whatever was wrong with her to come with a name, a diagnosis, a pill.

But what if it didn't? What if whatever was inside her head was bigger than that, darker than that? It wasn't possible; it couldn't be. Not in this life, not in the world as she knew it.

Leah was just drunk. And her mother was superstitious and creepy. Bella willed herself to believe that.

She stumbled blindly towards the door, just needing to be anywhere else. Away from Leah, away from her own, trembling hold on her sanity. Instead all she did was crash into Claire, head on.

"Jesus, Bella!" she exclaimed, one hand precariously clutching a glass of water, the other trying to keep them both from falling over. "What the hell is the matter with you?" Miraculously she managed to deposit the glass into Leah's waiting hand without upending it on anyone.

"She's…she said…she told me that I--" Bella stammered incoherently, hovering in the doorway.

"She's drunk. She doesn't have a clue what's coming out of her mouth except vomit."

Claire regarded her nervously, and grabbed her frantically fluttering hands before Bella accidentally whacked her. "Seriously, you're white as a ghost. You sure you didn't drink some of Quil's crazy juice too?"

Bella shook her head frantically, forcing herself to listen to what Claire had said. "No, she just…spooked me is all."

"Well, relax. Take it from someone who knows. First time I went to an on-campus cast party, my roommate told me I wound up singing the greatest hits of Menudo out of a third story window. Couldn't remember a thing the next day…"

Bella snorted, surprising even herself, the image of that breaking through the wall of paranoia and panic she was hurriedly building around herself. "Sounds…um, interesting."

Claire nodded in agreement. "So I'm told. I have a horrible fear one of my friends has it saved on a camera phone somewhere, just waiting to whip it out during a speech at my wedding or something. So just chill the fuck out and take a deep breath. Remember that she doesn't irrevocably hate you for missing her father's funeral, so you're already doing better than I am in her book."

Forcing herself to take a deep breath, Bella felt the panic recede. Her heart calmed in her chest. It was better, now that she wasn't trapped up here with Leah, just the crazy and the drunk. It was nice having a voice of reason in the room as well. That reassurance that everything was going to be okay was something she wasn't used to having.

It was something that, more and more, she realized, she was coming to rely on Jake for.

"I'm just gonna go outside and get some fresh air, okay?" she stammered, at least managing to put together full sentences again. "I mean, if you don't need me anymore and-"

Claire had moved on, and was busy helping Leah drink without soaking herself or her bed. "Go," she muttered. "I got this."

She retraced her steps outside, where Jake and Embry were verbally berating Quil.

"What do you mean you don't know what was in it?"

Quil threw up his hands in defense. "I mean I don't know what was in it! Look, if you take a lot of liquor from one bottle, it's easy to see that it's missing," he explained, shooting hurried looks back and forth from one boy to the other, as if waiting to see who might swing first. "But if you take a little from the top of every bottle, it's way harder figure out. It just so happens my old man has a lot of liquor bottles."

"That's…well, actually that's kind of horrifically brilliant," Embry admonished him. "But thoroughly disgusting."

Quil ignored him, pleading directly to Jake. "Look, I swear I was only planning to spike the coolers in the gym, otherwise I wouldn't have made it so strong. How was I supposed to know that Ms. Martin would stand by 'em all night long? I only gave it to Leah cause she knew what I was planning and she asked. I didn't know she'd drink it all, or that she'd have no tolerance." Quil looked nervous. "Please don't make me walk home, dude. It's like eight miles from here."

Jake glanced up when he heard Bella's footsteps approaching, and Quil looked thoroughly relieved that his attention was focused elsewhere. "How is she?" he asked.

She just nodded grimly, trying to look as if nothing was wrong. She was getting pretty good at it. "Leah's fine. Claire got her into bed, but she doesn't seem to be sick anymore."

"How are you?" he asked under his breath, pulling her closer. "You look like--"

"I'm fine," she cut him off. "Just not good with…well, vomit, is all."

He nodded and leaned in towards her ear. "I'm sorry this all happened. Think you can hang in there a little longer? I've still got a surprise for you."

"Don't you think there've been enough surprises tonight?"

He chuckled. "I promise this one won't get sick or involve human remains."

"Well, when you put it that way." Truth was Bella was in no hurry to be away from Jake's side. Not when her brain still felt like it was whirling like a top. Already she felt more grounded, centered, calmed, just because he was there. Just because he was there and sweet and thinking about normal kid stuff. "I think I can last a little longer."

"Good. And you," he told Quil pointedly, "Are just fucking lucky she didn't actually throw up in the truck."

Quil's look of relief was brightly illuminated as another set of headlights suddenly hit the driveway. Jake took a deep breath and steeled himself for the punishment he knew he was about to receive from the eldest member of the Clearwater clan, walking out to meet Sue as she got out of the old Chevy.

Bella crawled into the cab of her own vehicle and laid down on the seat, sure that if she had to face Sue again, Sue and her haunting looks, any chances of having a normal night would disappear completely.

She was grateful that when Jake eventually found her laying there, he didn't ask who exactly she was hiding from, or why.

* * *

"Well, that was a cluster-fuck if I ever saw one." Jake drummed in time to the Billy Joel that was blasting through the speakers as they turned down the narrow lane that led to his house. "Trust me, this was not what I envisioned for the evening."

Bella just shrugged. "I know I said I wanted to get out and experience more things, but that was just…"

"Crazy? Yeah, tell me about it." He cut the lights at he pulled into the long drive, winding up past the house and back towards the garage. "Trust me, you holding back Leah's hair tonight was not what I had planned."

"Well what exactly did you have planned?" Bella felt physically and emotionally drained, but she also didn't want to ruin whatever it was that Jake had put together for her. She was tired of being the spoilsport. Jake killed the engine outside the garage, a mischievous look in his eyes.

"C'mon." He kicked his door open. "I'll show you."

"Jake…" she said warningly, reluctantly following him out into the darkness. Without the lights from the truck, it was pitch black. The rez didn't really have a lot of streetlights, and the house was dark behind them. Bella could hear Jake in front of her, his feet clattering loudly on the loose gravel, but she couldn't see him at all. She kept one hand on the truck, following its contour around to the front bumper. "Where are you?"

"Right here," Jake said, only inches from her. Bella flinched, and his eyes must have adjusted quickly enough to see it, 'cause he laughed.

"Jerk," she muttered, reaching around in the darkness until her hands connected with the rough fabric of his shirt.

"Aw, don't say that now." He started to move in the general direction of the garage, pulling Bella along with him. "You haven't even seen your surprise yet."

"Jeez, Jake, out with it already," she pleaded.

Through the darkness she heard him laugh again, followed by a rattle as his hands found the garage door. "Well, I'm not going to just tell you. That would kind of ruin it. Now, close your eyes."

"Are you kidding? It's pitch black out here. I can't even see you!"

He sounded exasperated. "But it won't be when I turn on the light. C'mon, Bella – humor me?" She felt his hand brush her shoulder as he reached around and gave her hair a playful tug. "Please?"

Suddenly he was six years old again, plaintive and mischievous. He was tugging on her hand urgently because he had to show her a really cool bug or a rock or a crab he'd trapped in a tide pool. He was pulling her along because there were pirates after them, and ghosts that needed to be chased away or alien invaders from Mars and they had to hide. And they had to do all these things because it was more fun than playing with stupid old dolls. And, of course, she was too grown up for that, and angry he'd pulled on her ponytail and run away – the process repeated again and again until Bella was forced to chase after him, and the game was on whether she wanted it to be or not. And he would laugh, and she would too, and eventually she'd be agreeing with him that yes, the crab was very pretty, or hurling pebbles out into the surf to keep the pirates at bay.

Jake was six, and she was eight, and he had something secret that she just had to see. "Alright," she acquiesced, closing her eyes – the difference of black on black indefinable to her limited senses. "They're closed."

"…I don't know. Are you sure?" he teased. She felt the breeze as his hand passed back and forth in front of her face. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"No clue," she shot back. "But I'm thinking of holding up one."

"Alright, alright. Keep your panties on." She heard the balky garage door protest nosily as Jake shoved against the rusty hinges. A second later the black world glowed amber behind Bella's eyelids as Jake managed to locate the switch to the bare bulbs that lit the garage. His plans apparently in place, Jake grabbed her hands and led her forward slowly. In all honesty, Bella reasoned she could probably have managed without his help; her feet seemed to know where they were going on instinct alone, but it also seemed unwise to tempt fate by trying.

When it felt like they were in the middle of the room Jake stopped and guided her hand down until she felt her usual milk crate and plopped down gracelessly, trying to keep her dress from landing in any number of unflattering positions. From in front of her came a series of terrifying noises: shuffles and clangs, the sound of something heavy being moved. Bella winced involuntarily.

"Okay," Jake told her after a few minutes. "On the count of three you can open. One, two, three…"

It took Bella's eyes a second to adjust, and then another second to make sure that what she was seeing was real. She got to her feet and crossed the room with shaky steps. To anyone else - anyone in their right mind - what Jake was presenting with his arms outstretched might have just looked like junk. But as far as Bella was concerned, it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, a metallic piece of art.

It was the most dilapidated motorcycle that Bella had ever laid eyes on.

And it was all hers.

She reached out and touched the bike with reverence, hands trailing over the torn leather of the seat, the rough rust patches that ate at the handlebars like a cancer. Her fingers mapped every plane, traced every contour, as if she could somehow draw magic from the bike that only she could see.

And it was magic, she decided as she swung onto it. The feel of it beneath her legs awakened something in her senses – chilled ocean air as it rushed into her lungs and whipped through her hair, the world flying by until her vision was nothing more than a palette flooded by an insane array of watercolors. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and stood on end, as if her body itself was trying to will that memory into being. God, how she ached – physically ached, somewhere deep in her chest – to know that feeling again. That rush, that recklessness, that…that freedom.

Only now, she wouldn't have to wish for very much longer.

"I-" she finally managed to choke out, but she was unsurprised to find her throat constricting on its own. She felt the bevy of tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. "I don't-"

"You don't have to say it," Jake told her. He was watching her every move with a triumphant glint in his eyes. "I can already tell."

But Bella just shook her head in disbelief, desperate to find some way to give a voice to that warm, wondrous glow that was building inside her. "This…this has got to be the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me," she told him breathlessly.

"Hey now, your dad bought you a truck, remember?"

"It…it doesn't mean what this means…to me, that is. I mean…" She twisted the useless throttle beneath her hands, delighting in how smoothly it turned, imagining how fast it could go. "This is wonderful, Jake. How did you ever afford this?"

He shook his finger at her sternly. "Now that's just rude. You're not supposed to talk about how much a gift costs."

Bella did her best to mimic Angela's look from earlier that evening -- that commanding, yet soft expression that compelled you to speak (and, if Bella's outfit was any proof, to do what she told you). It didn't seem to have the same effect on Jake; he'd had too many years around big sisters, she supposed. "I just know that money's tight for you, and you should be saving it for college and stuff like that…"

"Actually, I was saving it for a car," he confessed, rolling his eyes at her persistence. "That's how I found this. Your Dad paid me for fixing that damn truck, so I went to the dump after school on Tuesday to see if I could afford anything worthwhile. Tripped over this baby walking in." He patted the handlebars affectionately, the way you might pet the head of a faithful dog. "It's like she was waiting there for us. It's not the same year as the one you described, and it's a Yamaha, not a Harley, but it's not far off, and with a little work I can…" His expression suddenly became stricken as he watched the smile melt off Bella's face, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. "What?" he demanded.

"You spent your car money on this? On…for me…oh, Jake…." Bella couldn't fathom him sacrificing so much just for her, her peace of mind.

As if sensing that she was about to protest, Jake cut her off with a wave of his hands. "Okay, first, this is why you never ask how much something cost. Second, it's in crap shape and wasn't nearly as expensive as a quality car body to begin with, so stop worrying. And third – there'll be other jobs. Something's bound to break around here sooner or later, and then I'll be right back where I started. So let me splurge on my friends and just enjoy something without worrying for once, okay?"

"I-" but the protest died on Bella's lips. "Thank you."

Jake just stood there with his arms crossed, beaming. "I told you you didn't have to say that either."

"Yeah," Bella nodded solemnly. "I did. I mean, you have no idea how much this means to-"

"Yeah, I do." And she knew he was right. Out of everyone in her life right now, he was probably the only one who got just how special a place a bike like this held in her heart. "But it's only part of my gift."

"Jake," Bella muttered, dumbfounded. "Seriously, this is too much."

He had the audacity to wink at her. "No, trust me, this is the most important part. It's a package deal." He turned around, rifling through one of the large storage cabinets in the back corner, and Bella closed her eyes without even being asked.

"Okay, hold out your hands," he told her a moment later. And she released the handlebars somewhat reluctantly.

"You know, last time I did this was in the fourth grade when Tommy Christopherson handed me a dead worm."

Jake chuckled from nearby, his laughter bright and ringing in her ears. "Well, I can promise you it's not a worm, living or otherwise."

He pressed something into the palms of her hands, hard and kinda heavy, his fingers brushing against her own. She waited for his hands to move, but they didn't. A moment later his lips pressed against her own without prompting or protest or warning. Briefly he squeezed her wrist, like he was holding onto the moment. It was soft and fleeting, all panic and warmth and the barest brushing of skin on skin.

In that moment Bella's heart stopped beating, and the world inside and outside of her body seemed to freeze. Everything imploded on that tiny encounter, in that tiny garage in the middle of nowhere. Bella's world imploded, and she waited for it to come back together again, hoping it would make sense when it did. But all she knew in that instant, that heartbeat, that split second of time, was that he tasted like Tic-Tacs and smelled like the cologne he stole from Billy, that his hair had come loose and was tickling the side of her cheek, and that Jake was kissing her and she didn't know what to do.

Then as suddenly as it had begun, it was over, and everything worked again, and the world spun, and Bella continued to exist in it, against all odds. Jake's eyes were panicked when she slowly opened her own.

"I…oh shit, Bella I…shit." He looked down, and seemed to realize that he was still clutching her hands in his own. He leapt back like he'd burned his fingers, leaving Bella to stare down at where they'd been.

Her mind felt blank and heavy, words slow on her tongue. "You got me a helmet?" she asked dumbly, saying the first thing that seemed to register. It was black and worn and seemed to be from the same generation as the bike.

"What?" The question seemed to snap Jake back into reality. "Um, yeah. You don't exactly have a great track record with vehicles and grievous head wounds and stuff, and I saw this at an old resale shop and thought it would be a good idea and…Christ." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Do you want me to take you home?"

Bella continued to stare down at her hands, at her gift, in some kind of a daze. Her brain felt like it was trying to reboot. "No!" she said a little too harshly, her voice rough and ragged. She wanted to sound calm, she wanted to wipe that look off his face and tell him it was all okay, even though she wasn't sure that it was. "No, I…I don't want to go home yet." She wasn't ready to be alone with this experience, not yet. It was still too strange.

Jake didn't seem convinced though, and his hands wrapped around hers again. "I swear, it was just an impulse – I was on such a roll tonight, trying to make all this…this imaginary stuff real, and after the dance and all…" He shook his head, forlornly. "It just sorta happened on its own."

"Really?" He nodded, and something inside Bella quickly devoured the idea that this was just a misunderstanding and clung to it. She tried to make her body respond in turn, but it rebelled against her. Nothing seemed to fire correctly. She blinked and curled her toes and eventually managed to squeeze his hands back like she'd been trying to do all along. "Jake, it's…okay. I'm…I'm okay." And she was, technically. Her heart was still beating, her lungs were still filling, her eyes were still seeing.

All things considered, she'd been through worse.

But her brain felt as thought it had suddenly switched back on, and now she was reeling beneath the onslaught of her own memories.

For once Bella was grateful that her mind was an absolute blur, racing in too many different directions for her to make sense of what she felt. It was a blessing in disguise – it kept all those confusing and…and painful thoughts at bay. They were moving too fast to settle and sprout roots, the kind that would invariably grow and infect her dreams, pumping them full of more doubt and fear and ice cold lips that were suddenly ripped away in the darkness. It was a self-preservation technique, and Bella leaned on it, losing herself to that flurry of pain and predilection, letting the chaos deafen that little voice in the back of her mind. The hurricane winds whipped at it, drowning it out, making it almost inaudible as it pleaded _wait, wait, wait…stay _to a memory of searing heat, and the scent of pine.

_Wait. Come back. Stay. _

* * *

The house was dark when they slipped in the back door, cutting through the kitchen. "Dad must already be asleep," Jake whispered.

"What," Bella muttered. "You mean he doesn't set an alarm for you?"

"Shhhhh. That's no excuse for you to wake him up."

"Sorry."

Jake grabbed her hand before she could run into the tiny kitchen table and guided her to the couch. A second later she was blinking in the glare of the television. Iron Chef, the actual one with the subtitles and the tofu. Jake grinned as her eyes adjusted and plopped down beside her. "Nothing like the Food Network after midnight. Unless you'd rather I go dig up a movie…"

"No, this is fine." And the choice of television was, but they weren't. They sat awkwardly, side-by-side, so unlike the closeness they'd shared tonight. The feel of his hands around her waist as they danced…or tried to, anyway. The feel of his lips against hers, when he'd…when they'd…

The pinpricks of untruth, betrayal, were starting to creep down the back of her neck. She shivered beneath Jake's coat. "Still cold?" he asked incredulously. He must have felt her twitch. "I've worn that thing through blizzards…" Still, he made as if to get up and give her the faded afghan he was lounging on.

"No, I'm fine." She grabbed his hand. "It's just…Jake, I don't want you to get the wrong impression. I think there's something I need to tell you."

He smiled at her reassuringly in the flickering glow. "No, you don't. It's alright – I understand, I really do. And I really am sorry. I was just riding on a romantic high, I guess. Personally, I blame Quil. Though I could probably blame you too, after last week when you told me about all the sex coma-dreams you had about us."

"I told you they weren't sex dreams," Bella said abrasively, refusing to take the bait he was teasing her with. This wasn't something that could just be laughed off.

Jake just rolled his eyes. "Sheesh, fine, Ms. Semantics. All those 'romantic' dreams you had about us," he said, air-quoting the word romantic. "And-"

She cut him off, before her nerve escaped her. "That's the problem, Jake."

He shook his head slowly, teasing smile still firmly in place. "What?"

"What I said...about us? There was no…us." Her voice cracked, faltered, and failed her. It died on her tongue.

Jake's smiled flickered. "But I thought you said-"

"You were there for me," she said, her voice barely audible. "When it felt like I had nobody else in the world, I had you. When…Edward left me, it was you who picked me up and help me put my life back together again. And something happened in the process, something between you and me. But…then Edward came back and…" She tried to steel herself for that final blow, but Jake stepped into it willingly.

"You didn't pick me." It wasn't an accusation, or a question. She could only nod in response. "Well…that explains a lot."

Bella had expected him to get upset, not for him to respond like she'd just asked him to pass the salt. "You don't…you don't hate me?"

"How could I hate you for something that never even happened?" he asked softly. "And here I thought you were just subconsciously attracted to my charm and scintillating wit…"

"I…was, once," she confessed. "We even kissed, too. But I wasn't ready then. And now…I'm not the kind of girl who can feel those things anymore."

He hesitated for a second, like he wanted to argue that point with her. But the fight was gone from his face as quickly as it had come. "It's okay. Really. It's nothing that can't be cured by watching people hack apart live octopus."

Bella forced a chuckle past her lips, but still felt like something was amiss between them. That tiny, persistent raincloud still felt like it was hovering over her shoulder, even if she couldn't see it. They watched the judges consume tofu baked with octopus, and Bella tried not to grimace, both at the food and the silence that stretched between them. Fortunately for both of them, Jake was kind enough to break it.

"I never understood how some people can eat tentacles like that. Hey, can I ask you a question?" It was possibly the worst conversational segue in human history, but his contemplative expression kept Bella from mentioning that.

"Sure," she said hesitantly, afraid that the pain she'd been expecting was finally upon them both, that torrential wave of emotional destruction that she had coming in more ways than one.

But Jake's voice was calm, controlled as he spoke. "Does it…" He faltered, and tried again. "Is it hard? Being stuck here with your second choice, I mean? Metaphorically and all." And though he was trying to sound nonchalant, Bella could feel something lingering in his voice. Something deep and sweet and shy, flavored with orange soda, warm and straight from the can. It was a hurt that instantly felt more familiar than almost anything about her warped little world ever had.

"No," she breathed quickly, knowing that there wasn't enough force in creation that could fill her answer with any more conviction. "And if I ever hear you refer to yourself that way again I will beat you bloody with a tire iron, you understand?" She couldn't see him clearly enough for her own satisfaction, so she stretched out her hand until it pressed against his cheek. He nodded into her palm.

"I was just wondering-"

"Well, don't," she cut him off sharply. "Jake, you were never…even in my _fucked_ up dreams, you were never second fiddle to anyone. You were too good for me. You deserved someone better than me. Someone functional and whole, who could love you back the way you deserved. By the time you found me, I was already damaged goods. Just like-" she hesitated, trying to find her voice. "Just like I am now. And some things even you can't fix. And sometimes you have to learn when to stop trying." She sagged beneath the force of her own words, as that overwhelming weight began to press down on her again. Her fingers began to slip from his face, but Jake captured her hand in his own.

"You don't need fixing," his voice assured her thickly through the darkness. "Don't you get it? We're all damaged. No one's perfect."

"You deserve someone perfect," she muttered sadly.

Jake laughed outright and a second later his arms were around her waist, and he was pulling her up against him on the couch. He leaned against the armrest, and snuggled her body against the contours of his own, still chuckling lightly. "You think _way _too highly of me. But thanks, I guess. It's nice to know someone does."

"Nice," she countered. "And true. Jake, you and I-"

"We don't have to talk about it anymore, Bells." He buried his face in her hair, that name, _her _name, rolling off his tongue like it belonged there. With a start she realized it was the first time he'd called her that. "I just needed to know that I'm not making it any worse for you."

"Are you kidding?" she demanded. "You're the only one making it better most of the time. Who else would take me on such…such grand adventures?"

"Oh, I think grand it a bit of a stretch. But it was a good night. Sort of." He chuckled lightly, and her hair fluttered in response.

"It was," Bella agreed, and it was true. It had been a strange night but not necessarily bad. She felt like there was more to it, though. Some hidden message, some deeper meaning that she'd see, if only she analyzed it closely enough. But she was tired of the details, the scars, all those little, dirty things that became evident only upon closer inspection. But there would always be tomorrow and the next day to over think it. She just wanted tonight…it was all too heavy to handle tonight.

Jake's breath was warm against the top of her head, and his coat was warm around her shoulders, and she suddenly felt absolutely and utterly _weary_. "You can close your eyes," he told her, as if he knew what she was feeling before even she did. It always seemed to be that way lately. "We've got an hour before I have to have you home."

She didn't want to. She knew the dreams would come – especially tonight – and she didn't want to scare him. But her eyes absolutely refused to stay open. "You'll wake me up?" she asked, her mouth barely opening with each word.

"'Course." And so, just like the first night they'd met, Bella rested while Jake kept watch. And in the flickering light of the television, in the arms of this strange boy, she dreamed.

* * *

"_Bella, if you don't stop fidgeting, I'm never going to get this finished," Angela chastised gently. _

"_Sorry." She stopped bouncing her feet, and Angela quickly resumed painting her toenails. Blood red paint shone brilliantly in the bright light, freshly wet._

"_You were right about the color," her friend murmured, humming softly to herself. Her green dress billowed out around her as she sat on the floor, waves of taffeta and lace concealing her legs. "The blue would have clashed." With a flourish she finished, then blew on Bella's feet gently._

"_Stop it," she squealed. "That tickles."_

_Angela ignored her and slipped a glass flip flop carefully onto Bella's foot. "There," she said deftly. "The total package. Wanna see?"_

_She got to her feet and pulled Bella carefully to hers, leading her over to the gilded antique mirror on the wall._

"_Oh my stars, Bella," she exclaimed softly, pushing her friend to stand in front of her. "That dress…you look fantastic!"_

_Bella's breath caught in her throat as her reflection peered back at her. Her dress was a swirl of reds and purples, composed entirely of Barney-themed Band-Aids. They covered every inch of her skin, clinging to her every curve with lithe grace. She twirled around once, and the skirt billowed out around her knees, exposing the Ace Bandages around her ankles, and her delicate glass flip flops. _

"_Wow," she said in a breathless whisper. "I look…wow…"_

"_You're perfect. You're ready for the ball." Angela leaned her head on Bella's shoulder, a soft smile on her lips as they both stared into the mirror._

_Suddenly, Bella was confused. "Wait, what ball-" _

"_Shhhhh. Don't worry about it," Angela interrupted her, leaning in and pressing her lips against Bella's ear. "And by the way, in case you were wondering, this is the hint you've been waiting for…"_

* * *

It was…dark. Dark and voices, and dark. There was no light from between the trees tonight. No moon? Her eyes were heavy. And the voices…

No, and the _voice_.

"…of course it's _only_ sleeping. What kind of a parent do you think I am?"

Her chair was soft tonight. Softer than usual. And warm. She burrowed.

"Hey, you think I'm in a better position to be chasing after grandchildren? I don't think so…"

She leaned back. Eyes would adjust, the trees would be clear soon. But her eyes were heavy tonight.

"…just come by in the morning. And bring coffee. And don't show up at dawn to go all Chief of Police on my ass. A man needs his beauty rest, after all…"

Police? Like her dad? Bella tried to blink. There was something she was supposed to do… But the voices were gone and the blackness was there, amongst the soft and warm things, and it was so hard not to blink and…

She closed her eyes and let the soft, echoing, bumping beat against her ear carry her away.

* * *

**A/N: You're all sick of hearing me make the same excuses, so I won't bore you. Thanks for being awesome readers. Thanks for getting me through the semester. Blue and Ceci, thanks for being awesome beta-type people. **

**So yeah, I recently got named one of A Different Forest's VIP authors. They're equal opportunity Twi-Fans, and I'm thrilled they decided to lend a podium to J/B fans like myself and Blueandblack. So swing on by and check it out at adifferentforest[dot]com. Sometimes (when I'm actually being a responsible writer) I even post excerpts and stuff in my cabin *wink, wink***

**And with that, I wish you all a Merry Christmahanukkakwanzayuledon! Stay safe, and I'll see you in the new year!  
**


	14. Chapter 14

"Mornin', sunshine."

Bella buried her head deeper in the soft nook where she was sleeping, resisting the smell of coffee as it wafted towards her. "It's too early, Dad…" she pleaded.

"Okay," he conceded, but Bella didn't hear him walk back down the hall the way he usually did. She ignored him, she was just so _tired._ She buried her nose in her pillow and tried to coax her herself into drifting off again. But there was this nagging sensation tugging at the back of her brain. The same one that always told her that she was going to miss the bus or that her snooze button wasn't going to go off or that Mom had let her oversleep. That math test. That milk she was supposed to get at the store. She was forgetting something…but what…

Beside her, Jake snorted in his sleep.

"Ohmygosh!" The words tumbled out in a rush and Bella frantically tried to untangle herself from the duvet and Jake and the couch and the mess of her own limbs. She stumbled to her feet, and practically pitched headfirst into her father.

"Dad, I can explain…" she started to say.

Charlie didn't appear to be listening though. He took a long, thoughtful swig of coffee, then looked at his watch. "So the strangest thing happened last night," he said, his voice unnervingly conversational. "My daughter didn't come home."

"Dad…" she tried again.

He ignored her, fishing something out of his pocket. "I wake up to find the house empty, no phone calls. And that's when I remember that she's got this fancy cell phone now. So I figure I'll just call that and make sure she's okay. But there's no answer. In fact, there's no answer twenty-one times." He held out his silver phone and showed Bella all the dialed calls.

"I…" She didn't know what to say – they'd never even heard it ring. Bella snatched her purse off the coffee table and began to dig through it frantically. "My phone's not here," she said, upending the contents all over the table in proof. "Crap!" Her brain began racing with all the possible places it could be. The garage, the floor of the truck, Leah or Claire's purses by mistake maybe. She cold only pray that it wasn't lying in the grass by the river bank. The last thing she needed was for Charlie to find it next time he and Billy went fishing.

Charlie dragged her back into the present, thrusting a cup of coffee into her hands. "Well now that kind of defeats the purpose of having one Bella. That being said, Billy has a phone too, you know."

She took a swig of coffee, and felt the caffeine begin to lift the fog of sleep that was still making everything around her seem fuzzy and disjointed. The wheels were turning in her brain again, albeit slowly. "We just fell asleep. I'm so sorry."

"We will discuss your apology and the missing phone later," Charlie said. It sounded like more like a threat than anything. "Right now, I have bigger fish to fry." He kicked at Jake's shin with the tip of his steel-toe. The boy muttered but didn't stir.

Bella plopped down onto the couch beside him and shook his shoulder. "Jake!" she hissed. But his only response was to grab her arm and, in the most un-helpful way possible, attempt to roll them both over. She tried to break his grip, but even in sleep he was stronger than her.

"Five more minutes," he muttered thickly, pulling her close.

Bella groaned, feeling her father's eyes burning holes in them both. With her free hand she jabbed her finger between Jake's fourth and fifth ribs as hard as she could, pinching some for good measure.

"Yargh!" He bolted up, instantly awake. "What the hell, Bella?!"

She didn't say anything at first, just stared and him and gave reality a moment to sink in. After a few seconds Jake blinked, suddenly confused. "Wait, what are you doing here?"

"Funny, I was wondering the same thing," Charlie said. Jake looked slowly to his left, and noticeably paled – not the sort of thing Bella was used to seeing. He shot to his feet like the couch had been spring loaded.

"Charlie-" he started, speaking in a slow, even voice, the way one talks to a scared child or a growling dog.

"Sir," Charlie corrected him.

Jacob gulped audibly. "Charlie, _sir_, this…this isn't what it looks like."

"It isn't?" Jake flinched under Charlie's gaze, and Bella wondered if secretly, deep below his current fit of raging over-protectiveness, he wasn't enjoying this just a little bit. "So you didn't sleep with my daughter, then?"

"Well no, we slept together but--"

Charlie glowered, his free hand drifting lower on his hip. Much closer to his firearm than either Bella or Jake was comfortable with.

"But...we…I still have my pants on!" Jake exclaimed stupidly.

"Yes," Charlie said, though he looked the boy up and down for good measure. "I can see that. That's not the point. The point--"

"-Is that you are here way too goddamned early," Billy finished helpfully as he wheeled himself down the hall, wearing a blue bathrobe and looking bleary-eyed. "You," he declared, pointing a knobby finger at Charlie. "I thought I made myself very clear on the phone last night."

Charlie handed him one of the steaming paper cups, then checked his watch again. "Black, three sugars. By my count it's 6:48am, and according to my handy almanac, dawn was officially at 6:13am." He looked at Billy smugly.

"Smart ass," the elder Black muttered sharply, pushing himself into the kitchen, coffee cup firmly planted between his knees. An air of nonchalance rolled off him, and it only seemed to aggravate Chief Swan even more.

Bella figured that was kind of the point; Billy's subtle revenge for the early wake up call.

"Where the hell are you going?" Charlie demanded.

"To make breakfast. Some of us function better on a full stomach."

"Don't you think you should be a parent and get in here so we can talk about this?" Charlie shifted his eyes back to Jake, who'd begun to make a subtle beeline for the kitchen, and the protection of his father. "I know I've got more than a few questions myself."

"Yeah," Billy agreed. "I guess I got a few too. Bella?"

She grimaced. "Yes?"

"Sunny-side up work for you?"

Jake snorted. It was a subtle, momentary, involuntary reflex, one that couldn't be helped. But Charlie, seemingly having forgotten that he was once a teenage boy, glared at him with fire in his eyes.

"…Dad," Bella said, a warning in her tone. She grabbed him around the arm and tried to drag him back to the couch. "C'mon, it was a joke…"

"You think this is funny, son?" Charlie demanded harshly, completely oblivious to the way Bella was clinging to his arm.

"Ease off, Chief. I'm making enough for everyone," Billy said from the kitchen, but the humor had disappeared from his voice.

"I asked you a question, Jake," Charlie repeated. "Do you think this is funny? Do you think the fear a man feels when he daughter doesn't come home at night is funny? Cause believe me, I've seen that fear on the faces of enough parents whose kids never come home to know that there is _nothing_ remotely funny about it."

"That's it!" There was a resounding clang from the kitchen, the sound a pan makes when it hits a counter. Hard. A moment later Billy wheeled himself into the doorway, drying his hands on a dishrag. "Excuse me, _dear_," he said to Charlie, voice dripping in aggravation. "But can I see you in the kitchen for a minute? You know I don't like to fight in front of the children – it upsets them so."

Charlie opened his mouth to protest, still glaring at Jacob.

"Now!" Billy barked.

Charlie slammed his coffee down on the sideboard and stalked off into the kitchen, sulking like a child. Bella started to follow after him, but Jake grabbed her hand.

"Let go!" She tried to jerk out of his grip, but Jake just put a finger to his lips and started to pull her towards the front door.

"This is probably one conversation neither of us wants to be involved with," he said under his breath, closing the screen door quietly behind them. He looked genuinely nervous. "Or at least we can wait until Charlie puts down his gun or something."

"Yes," Bella said sarcastically, following him around the side of the house. "I'm sure us sneaking off together will totally convince Charlie not to kill you. This is all your fault, by the way. You were supposed to wake me up."

"What can I say: subtitles put me to sleep," Jake explained like it was the most rational excuse in the world. "And we're not sneaking off, we're going to find your cell phone, at which point I may or may not crazy glue it to your palm so that this never happens again…" He ran his fingers through his sleep-tangled hair, but still couldn't quite manage to get it to lie flat. "Now shush." He held his fingers to his lips, then dropped to all fours and crawled beneath the low set kitchen window that looked out onto the side yard.

Bella sighed, and hitched her dress up above her knees, doing her best to keep it out of the mud as she followed suit. The white window was open a crack, just enough to catch the early morning spring air. She paused beneath the sill and listened intently for a moment, and could barely make out the sound of gruff voices trying their best to talk over each other.

"You're right: seeing as how I have _absolutely _no experience raising daughters, what could I possibly know?" she heard Billy demand faintly.

She didn't stick around long enough to wait for Charlie's response. Maybe he just didn't have one.

Jake was already scouring the garage by the time she caught up. "You get lost or something?" he asked as she walked by his face. He was looking underneath the truck.

"I'm sorry, I'm not exactly dressed for scurrying all over your yard right now."

He snorted, declaring his search of the floor a failure. "Relax, Trigger, I was just teasing. Check the passenger side." He yanked open the balky driver's door and began digging his hand around under the seat.

Bella opened the other door without protest, but instead of looking for her phone, she slumped over on the seat and watched the back of Jake's head as he worked frantically. "Why are we friends?" she asked softly.

"What the hell would make you ask a question like that?" Jake continued to rummage, now digging into the crack between the vinyl seat and the backrest, totally distracted.

Bella didn't respond right away, too busy, as always, trying to find the right words to explain the heavy tangle that was suddenly weighing on her mind.

"I don't know," she admitted half-heartedly, poking through the change on the dashboard, even though she could tell her phone wasn't there. "I just never stopped to rationalize it before, but then I started to, and then after last night--"

"Okay, stop," Jake glared over the seat at her with a sheepish look on her face. "How long are you going to hold one moment of romantic spontaneity over my head? Jesus, it's not like it was awful or anything, was it?"

Bella shook her head fervently, fighting down that constricting pressure that felt like it was taking over her chest. It was the same feeling that had choked her as they'd talked on the couch last night. "No, it was fine."

_Was it? Would you really feel this way if it was?_

She ignored the petulant, pleading voice in the back of her mind. "It's just… I can't feel that way about people anymore. I just…" She wanted to say that it just hurt too much, but the words died on her tongue. "I don't want you here with me when you should be out there finding someone who can feel about you the way you want to feel and…"

"Alright, A: I don't feel that way about you, Bells. You dreamed that part, remember?" Jake said, his voice contracted and snippy. "I thought I told you this. And B: I don't buy that whole _I'll never love again_ bullshit for a second, so just knock it off."

"I--"

"No, no," Jake cut her off, reaching over the seat and clamping his hand down across her fumbling lips. "Just. Stop. See, you're a better student than I am, so I know you already know this, but the human body is designed to recover. Bones break and grow back stronger than before, people wander the desert and survive for days without food, water, shelter. We're adaptable, naturally created survivors. Someone, something breaks you down emotionally and you don't think you'll make it until you wake up and its six months later and you find out that you have."

He shook his head forlornly, and slowly removed his hand. "There's not a person walking around that doesn't have a little duct tape or spackle on their hearts. You suffer until someone comes along and makes you want to feel all those romantic things again, so you break out the glue and start all over. We all end up like your truck, basically. The imperfections make us special." Jake waited, seeing if his words would sink in.

Bella opened her mouth to protest, but he just held up a finger warningly and she closed her mouth again. After he turned away, satisfied that he'd made his point, she leaned over and spoke in a rush to the back of his head. "Be that as it may I just don't think it works like that for me, and I don't want to see you wasting your time on someone who can't adequately return your affections, and I certainly don't want you to just put up with me because you feel bad for me, and I don't want to keep you from the people you'd rather be with and that's all I'mtryingtosay."

Jake groaned into the tattered vinyl, his patience finally exhausted. "Do you _ever_ give it a rest, or do you seriously not give yourself any credit? Like, at all?"

"What are--"

"Look," he interrupted her, jumping to his feet. Frustration was spelled out all over his features, but his eyes were understanding. "You're a good listener. Seriously, you'll sit there for hours and just let me ramble about…I don't know, cooling systems, or stupid stories about shit the guys have done, or how bad the Mariners suck this season – which they do. You're not high maintenance. You don't expect me to call or text you a hundred times a day. Your idea of fun isn't traipsing around the mall, making me and Quil carry your bags. You're nice to my friends, even when they're assholes, which is frequently. And you don't give me shit for showing up at your door in the rain a complete wreck because I don't handle death well. At all. So yeah, you bring a thing or two to the friendship, alright?"

Bella felt herself blush, her mouth hanging open stupidly. She'd never heard anyone talk about her that way. Not in real life, anyway. And not in such…such a_ simple_ way. With Edward it had always been grandiose statements: declarations of life-altering love and the nature of romance. She should've expected Jake to be different.

He was a details man, after all.

But he was right, she never did stop to examine the little things when it came to friendship and love and the people around her. She always felt like the concepts were just too big to put into words. Jake managed to capture them, though, in the smallest of instances. He broke emotions down into their component pieces, just like he did an engine, and by the time it was lying in a heap of random parts, he understood it better than she ever could.

"I--" she started to say for the umpteenth, but there were no words.

Jake put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, still looking a bit exasperated. "You've got to stop thinking about life as this all or nothing process, Bells. Just because I'm friends with you doesn't mean that I can't be friends with Quil or Embry or anyone else. And just because you're here doesn't mean that I won't be adequately able, or more than willing, to take care of the multitudes of hot women hurling themselves at me." He punctuated the last statement with a trademark grin. "I am quite the stud, in case you haven't noticed."

"Gee Jake, humble much?" she asked, feeling herself beginning to reflect his smile almost involuntarily.

Jake's only response was to flex his arms in a very non-subtle fashion, showing off his "alleged" guns, as well as the fact that in his left hand, he was clutching her cell phone. "C'mon, you can't blame them for wanting to tap this, can yo—hey!"

Bella slid across the seat, threw her arms around his neck, and buried her head against his shoulder before she even had time to realize what she was doing. Jake wrapped her up and pulled her in even closer.

"What gives?" he asked softly.

Bella shrugged beneath the weight of his arms. "Just…needed to say thanks," she mumbled into his shirt.

"For finding your cell phone? It was just under the seat."

"No," she said. "For being my friend."

* * *

Charlie was waiting by the cruiser, calling her name, when Bella and Jake finally emerged from the garage.

"What were you doing in there?" he asked accusingly, but the fight seemed to have gone out him.

Bella waved her dead cell phone at him. "It was stuck between the seats of the truck. Must've gotten wedged in there when Leah knocked my purse over."

He only grunted in response and climbed into the cruiser. Bella followed suit, watching jealously as Jake slipped inside his backdoor. He was probably facing a more comfortable experience than Bella was.

They drove in relative silence until they hit the main road that wound through the edge of the forest and back into downtown Forks. Finally Charlie sighed uncomfortably, and switched off the radio. "Look Bells-"

"I'm sorry," she interrupted him, her voice tiny. "I didn't mean to make you worry. Really."

"I know you didn't," he said stoically. "You're a good kid Bells, and I know that. As much as it pains me to admit it, so is Jake. But after everything…" He hesitated, looking grim. "I know that I worry more than I should. After everything that's happened…it's just hard for an old Dad to turn it off sometimes, okay?"

"I know," she said, remembering all too clearly the sight of him crying at her bedside. "I'll be better next time. I promise."

"Oh, I know you will be," he said darkly. "Because you're grounded for the next week. Tutoring, and then home. No exceptions."

"Alright," Bella agreed quickly. After all, it wasn't like she could drive. Or that she ever had any place to be… "Oh, no," she said suddenly, remembering a particular conversation from the evening before.

Charlie's hand jerked on the wheel. "What?"

"It's just…I promised Angela that I'd go into Seattle with her this Sunday." She pressed the power button on her phone, and it lit up for a few, futile moments before going black again. "I'll have to call her when I get home and let her know. Maybe she can still talk Jessica into going with her," she said, mostly to herself.

Charlie was quiet for a moment, eyes glued to the road. "The Weber girl?" he asked quietly. A small smiled flickered across his face.

"Yeah," Bella said, glancing at him curiously. "Why?"

He hesitated, and then shrugged. "Well…maybe we can start your grounding on Monday."

Bella couldn't help but smile in response. "Thanks Char--I mean, thanks Dad."

* * *

"He bought you a motorcycle?" Angela repeated in disbelief. She took a break from starring at Bella incredulously just long enough to take her plate from the waiter and thank him softly. "Like, a real motorcycle?"

"No Ange, the fake kind," Bella joked distractedly. She was too busy gaping at the massive plate of sushi her friend had ordered. "Yes, it's a real motorcycle."

"Well I'm sorry," her Angela replied. "It's just not what I expected to hear when you said Jake got you a gift. It's not like I know a lot of girls who get excited over defunct automotives. I mean, is there a reason he gave you a motorcycle, or does he just not know anything about women?"

Bella shrugged, trying to find a way to explain the bike significance without sounding like a raving lunatic. Not that Angela would've judged her for it or anything, it was just that it wasn't a conversation Bella was interested in having today. She took a bite of her stir fry and chewed thoughtfully, buying herself some time. "It's just, kind of an inside joke between us, I guess," she finally replied, lamely. But, as always, Angela seemed content with that answer. She wasn't one to press or pry, and for that Bella was immensely grateful.

After depositing the twins at their gym (and after a car ride that left Bella shuddering at the thought of ever reproducing) she and Angela had stopped at a tiny Asian fusion bistro and grabbed seats under the awning. Then, safely out of earshot of any siblings, Angela had proceeded to grill her about her entire dance experience.

"He's got to fix it up and get it working first, but it's-," Bella said. "It's hard to explain, but it wasn't just a bone-head boy move, I promise."

"Hey, I don't doubt it." Angela picked up a sushi roll off her plate and then sniffed at it, hesitantly. "But I am doubting the wisdom of ordering this now. This stuff looks way more appealing on television." She popped the roll in her mouth and grimaced, swallowing quickly. "Yeah, definitely more of a visual food than an edible one."

"You're the one who wanted to come here," Bella reminded her, knowing full well that Ange had their entire day planned and itemized in her head, a carefully researched itinerary.

"Well then I take it back," Angela muttered, picking the rice off another roll, eating it and leaving behind the flattened shrimp,

Bella reached over and yanked the Angela's plate away, replacing it with her own. "You'll like that better," she assured her when Angela began to protest. "And Renee went through a pan-Asian phase for a while, so I think I can hold my raw seafood."

"Thank you," Angela said in a loud stage whisper. "That's so sweet, it almost makes me feel bad to say this, but can I ask you for a favor?"

"Hey, I rode all the way here trapped in a minivan with your little brothers, remember?" Bella said sarcastically. "I believe that makes you the favor ower, now."

"No, I promise, this is a long term request for a favor. I'm sure I'll have months to pay you back in the interim. Please?" She looked at Bella with that plaintive, puppy-dog expression plastered all over her face.

Bella conceded with a chuckle, deciding that Angela's powers of persuasion were just evil. "Fine, but the next time I need furniture moved up a few flights of stairs, I'm calling you…"

"Fair enough," Angela conceded, taking a deep breath and steeling herself for what she was prepared to ask. "Feel free to turn me down here but…I was wondering if, when Jake get's your bike working, if maybe you would take me for a ride on it?" The last words emerged as a hesitant squeak.

Bella cocked a wry eyebrow at the request and stared at Angela in surprise. "Um, sure?" she said, the words more questioning than answering. "Since when--"

"Seriously? Thank you so much!" Angela interrupted her, squealing quietly, her voice brimming with excitement. "Oh Bella, you're so lucky! I can't wait 'till he get's it working. It's going to be so much fun!"

"Jeez Ange, I wouldn't have pegged you as a motorcycle junkie," Bella said, snorting under her breath at her friend's overzealous reaction. "You into monster trucks too?"

"No, it's not like that," Angela assured her, more calmly. She re-established her air of composure in the blink of an eye. "I'm still a well behaved, non-redneck little girl. It's more a family thing. My uncle Max lives down in Santa Clara? He's in banking, and he never married, so he throws all his money into restoring these classic cars. It's sort of an obsession of his. My family would go down and visit him for a few weeks every summer when I was younger."

"Sounds nice," Bella said. "I wish my mom had siblings like that. Just run away for a few weeks..."

"It was nice." Angela stayed seated right across from her, but her eyes seemed miles away. And surprisingly, she looked just a little bit sad. "There was this frozen yogurt place out in this town in the middle of nowhere. Uncle Max and I used to put a cooler in the back of whatever his latest restoration was, and we'd drive three hours and bring back a month's worth of the stuff. And I just remember sitting on a phone book in the front seat of that year's Cutlass, or Skylark, or Corvette, nothing around us for miles. We would go so fast, and the wind would blow my hair straight back and we'd listen to Bruce Springsteen and laugh…" Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head at the memory, a half-smile etched on her face. "It's just, when I think about freedom, and being deliriously happy, I think back to those trips. And now it's just automatic: driving fast and feeling the wind against my face make me think of those summers again. Does that sound stupid?" she asked Bella, suddenly self-conscious.

"No, I don't think it sounds stupid at all," she said quickly. "In fact, it's kinda sweet." She wanted to tell Angela that she felt the same way. That she only remembered feeling truly whole when she was outrunning it all: the visions, the voices, the pain in her chest. But there were just some things better left unsaid. "Your uncle sounds like a good guy..."

Angela laughed into her drink at that comment, and came up for air with Sprite dripping down her chin. "It would depend who you ask. When I was 10, he gave me a picture of this car he had, waiting for him at some auto-wreckers in Houston. It was a 1968 Pontiac GTO, and he told me he was going to restore it, and give it to be for my sixteenth birthday." She chuckled again, but there was a mournful quality to it. "I thought Mom was going to set him on fire, she was so pissed. She chewed him out for the next half hour: 'she's going to get hurt' and 'you're not giving my daughter a muscle car before the ink on her license is even dry.' It was hilarious."

Bella caught herself laughing too, until something registered in the back of her mind. Angela spent her time driving around in a crappy Toyota Corolla that was missing a hubcap. Finally, she placed that note of sadness in her friend's voice. "What happened to him?"

Angela wiped her face with a napkin, and when she pulled it away, her somber expression had returned. "He's got second stage lung cancer. Doesn't really have the strength to do auto work anymore. Mom goes down and sees him about once a month, though. I think that helps a little. But I can tell he misses it." Something in her voice said that she already missed him and was mourning. Angela was losing someone by degrees.

Bella suddenly felt lucky, grateful – emotions she didn't typically experience. But the pain of ripping off a bandaid, of losing it all in a blink, was better than pulling out the stitches one by one.

Angela seemed strangely intent on pushing the noodles around her plate.

They were supposed to be having fun.

"Hey," Bella chirped, breaking the silence that was rapidly becoming unpleasant. "You never told me how your dance went. Don't think you're going to escape without giving me details. Not when you made me do a full play-by-play."

"That was different," she objected. "You went with a mysterious boy from the reservation who bought you a vehicle and helped you commit what was possibly criminal disposal of a dead body. I, on the other hand, went on a platonic date with my editor because he couldn't find anybody else, and now I'm not sure I'll ever be able to work with him again."

Bella grimaced sympathetically. "It was that bad?"

Angela mouth was set in a hard line, her lips pursed tightly together. She was trying to find a way to be nice, Bella could tell, but she was having a hard time. "Eric is a nice guy," she prefaced. "But he just has a different interpretation of what our…relationship is. I feel that it's strictly professional. He, on the other hand…"

"He tried to kiss you?" Bella asked, interpreting the silence.

Angela shuddered a bit. "Tried and was successful. It was either block his face, or hold onto my camera…" she said, letting her head drop back and staring skyward. "I just couldn't do it! That thing cost an entire summer's paychecks working at the church day care!"

Bella laughed quietly into the back of her hand. "I'm…so sorry…must've been…awful" she chortled, her voice cracking.

"Liar." She righted herself and glared at Bella over the frame of her glasses. "You're about as much help as my mother. She just thinks the whole thing is 'too cute'" Angela said, throwing air quotes out around her mother's words. "She just wants me to date more. I tried to explain to her that it's just not that easy. It's not like I'm Bella Sawn, where attractive and mysterious men from the other side of town just show up at my door and sweep me off my feet, while still respecting my personal space and not trying to plant one on me and…" Angela stopped mid-rant, and pushed her glasses back into position, staring at Bella through the lenses. Bella squirmed under her gaze and tried to will the fire in her cheeks to cool and disappear. "Spill," Angela ordered.

Bella groaned. "Yeah, he…sorta kissed me…too." Angela's smile evolved into a knowing smirk. "What?" Bella demanded.

"Nothing," Angela assured her friend, still completely unable to wipe away her grin. "I didn't say anything. Nothing at all. Not a word from me. Now hurry up and eat your raw fish. There's a place I want to swing by before we have to get my brothers."

* * *

"St. James Church? We drove all the way to Seattle and you want to visit a church?" Bella demanded they stopped outside. "I mean, no offense, but don't you get enough of that at home?"

Angela rolled her eyes and step out of the way of oncoming parishioners as they flooded out the door after the early afternoon mass. "For your information yes, I do get plenty of church visits at home. The only difference is that our church in Forks was built in 1979, whereas this one was built in 1885."

"So?"

Angela shifted her messenger bag around to her hip and drew her camera out from its depths. "So, they recently did a full restoration of the architecture inside. I'm trying to put together my portfolio for my college applications, and my advisor at school said my artistic photos were 'lacking'. I just want to get some shots of the interior architecture – it looked beautiful in the article I read. Think you can behave yourself for that long?" she teased. "Or am I going to have to play the quiet game with you just like I did with my brothers?"

Bella laughed as she followed her friend up the concrete steps and into the vestibule recalling the sight of the twins in the backseat as they'd competed to see who could go the longest without talking. Thirty blissfully quiet minutes later James, the victor, had been more than happy to claim five dollars from his sister in prize money. "I thought Christianity frowned on bribery."

"Oh, please." Angela shot her a look over her shoulder. "That was not a bribe, that money was hard earned. For a ten year old boy, keeping his mouth shut is an act that requires some serious will power. I'm just helping them to develop said will."

"Yes, I'm sure your actions were entirely selfless…" Bella muttered, but she stopped her teasing as she and Angela crossed the threshold into the atrium of the church. "Holy…"

It was instantly obvious why Angela had selected this church for her photos. The ceiling was composed of a series of intersecting domes and arches, all colored midnight blue, and covered with a field of gold filigree 'stars'. Stained glass windows, several stories high, stretched upwards towards the intricate sky, making the walls glow pink and green and gold as the sun shone through them. It was an architectural feat by today's standards, but to think that something so impressive had been created without today's mechanics and technology…it was mind-boggling.

They weren't the only ones inside the massive structure. A few people lingered after mass, sitting by themselves in pews, heads bowed in prayer or starting off into space blankly, lost in thought. But they seemed undisturbed by her presence and by the soft clicking of Angela's camera, so Bella figured they were probably welcome inside. She wandered while Angela worked, admiring the artistic elements of the place as she went.

Still, welcome or not, Bella didn't feel entirely…comfortable. She and religion had a strange, if not strained, relationship. Like so many other elements of her life, Renee's religious views never remained static for long. Her spirituality shifted as rapidly as her taste in clothing or food. Deep down, Bella thought that what her mother actually loved the excitement of discovering new things, more than any of the new things she actually discovered. She was addicted to expanding her horizons, as much as she tried to deny it. That didn't really leave her and Bella with the ability to put down religious roots anywhere.

And unlike her mother, the abrupt changes didn't leave Bella with a feeling of excitement. They left her feeling like something of a gypsy – familiar with many places, but unable to really call any of them home. She'd been a Buddhist, a Taoist, Jewish for a brief time in fifth grade, she'd practiced meditation, prayer, and had even attempted interpretative dance as a form of worship, but never long enough for anything to stick. And so she followed Renee from one idea to the next until, by the time she left Phoenix, Bella had decided that religion was just a subject better left to more reflective and philosophical people than herself.

It left her with the feeling that this sacred ground was not hers to walk upon.

Her feet stopped their slow walk along the pews when a softly flickering light in an antechamber to her left caught her eye. Nestled into the alcove were hundreds of votive candles, both lit and unlit. Above them an intricate statue of the virgin mother seemed to keep watch over the flickering flames, her hand outstretched, her eyes downcast. Bella shivered for a split second as those porcelain eyes looked straight into her own.

Then, without thinking, she grabbed a tiny, wooden stick from the basket, and lit the tip of it. With shaking hands she transferred the flame to one unlit candle, then another, and another.

"Who are the candles for?"

Bella jumped, her heart leaping into her throat as Angela's voice broke her silent vigil. Behind her she heard a snap and saw a telltale flash, as her friend captured the flickering lights, and the haunting statue, on film. She sighed. The last time she'd been in a church like this one, it had been for a funeral. She remembered it in that dim, jagged quality that all childhood memories seem to take on after a while. Patent leather shoes and a pink ruffled dress, the feel of her mother's hand around her own. "My Nana and Pop. Charlie's parents were Catholic," she explained. She was relieved when Angela didn't ask about the third candle.

Some part of her felt horrible in that very moment, as though she was disgracing the dead, wasting their honor on the living. _He's dead to me_, she rationalized inside her head.

She hoped those her were truly gone would forgive her for this small comfort.

"It's strange seeing this statue here. It's one of the biggest points of contention between the Catholic Church and other Christian faiths," Angela murmured.

"What?" Bella asked. Gently she blew out the flame, and deposited the balsa wood stick in a basket by her feet. Behind her she could hear Angela clicking away, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the flickering candles.

"Mary," Angela answered. "The Catholics pray to her. Lots of other faiths consider it idolatry."

It was the kind of talk that she used to share with her mother, every time she had a change of faith. Or a change or heart. "What do you think?" she asked softly.

Angela drifted into view beside her, camera still raised. She shrugged. "I don't know. You have to admit that she was very brave regardless, going through what she went through. Imagine how scary it must have been: she was just a kid, and then all of a sudden she has this huge destiny dropped onto her shoulders. Literally, the survival of all mankind. It must have been terrifying."

But Bella was only half-listening. She drifted back into the church gallery, her head heavy as she collapsed into the nearest pew. Her mind churned with thoughts of supernatural losses and spiritual destinies. In hindsight, it all made so much sense, all the pieces fitting neatly together, part of some great cosmic plan.

So what was the reason behind her existence then? What was Bella Swan's destiny, aside from love…and loss?

Bella dug her nails into the cracks in the rough-worn pew beneath her. "Do you believe that everything happens for a reason? That, you know, God has some master plan for all of us?" she asked softly.

Angela turned and looked at her curiously for a moment before answering. "Are you really asking if I think there's a reason that you got hit by a van?"

Staring intently at the wood beneath her, Bella simply nodded.

Angela didn't say anything right away. She walked over to the pew and sat down beside her. With deft fingers she began cycling through the pictures she'd just taken, examining the working potential of each shot, and discarding the bad ones. With anyone else the actions would've seemed rude. But during the car ride earlier, Bella had learned that if anyone was the master of multi-tasking, it was Angela. Apparently when dealing with twins, the skill was a necessity.

In this case, Angela was using her pictures as an excuse to contemplate her response. "You know I read this article once, in _Time_ I think. It was written by this life analyst, and it was exploring the theory of whether God is a sitcom viewer, or a video game player."

The odd response yanked Bella from her stupor, and she glanced up at her friend strangely. "I don't understand…"

"It was this piece about free will," Angela explained. "About whether we believe that God is watching the events unfolding here on Earth like a television show. You know, you can watch the characters and be affected by theirs moods and all, but you're also powerless to stop them, or control their actions. The other school of thought is that the world is a giant video game, with God controlling the individual actions of each person like they're his own, personal mustachioed Italian plumber." There was a soft beep as Ang skipped past the photos she'd taken at the café, keeping all of them.

"Ah," Bella said, finally understanding the point Angela had been trying to make. "And what did this article determine? What are we, the cast of Friends or Mario?"

Angela chuckled. "It was more the question posing type of article, than the answering type."

"Ah." Bella figured that she must have looked really crestfallen at that answer, because Angela put her hand on her shoulder and did her best to look reassuring.

"Look I…this is the sort of thing that I'm not really good at explaining," she said. "But if I've learned anything growing up in a family as spiritual as mine, it's this: I don't know if we control our own fate or not, but I do know that without a doubt, the one thing you do have control over is what you choose to make out of a situation."

"Are you saying that I should try and view the fact that I got run down by a car as a good thing?" Bella asked in disbelief.

"I'm saying that regardless of whether you were destined to get in a car accident, or it was just a random and unfortunate act, the one thing you can control is your perspective on the situation." Angela knitted her eyebrows together in frustration, her brow furrowed like she was trying to find the right words say what she meant, and failing. "My Dad is the eloquent one, not me, but bear with me," she finally pleaded. "It's like the women who find out they have breast cancer and decide they're going to use it as an opportunity to raise awareness about women's health as opposed to just throwing up their hands and admitting defeat. Look, what happened to you was awful, Bella. No one would ever argue otherwise. But maybe you can use this as a vehicle for something positive, as opposed to allowing it to turn into a rain cloud that follows you wherever you go."

"Something positive like what?" Bella asked softly. The accident had carved a gaping hole in everything she was, everything she thought she knew and loved…it felt too big. Too big for her to hold in her hands, and shape into something new and less devastating. But maybe the failing was her own. Maybe what she really lacked was the willpower, the strength to change her outlook on life. Maybe people like Angela were just tougher than she was…

As if Angela knew what she was thinking, at that very moment she reached out and covered Bella's hand with her own. "That's for you to figure out," she answered in a voice full of hope. "Maybe it's opened your eyes to a whole class of people in need of company and friends, people who aren't fortunate enough to have a family there with them in the hospital, like you did. You could become a patient volunteer or something?" In the midst of the somber moment, Ange let a small laugh roll off her tongue. "Or maybe it's made you want to be an advocate for an increased driving age – you could write to Congress about it. It doesn't have to be huge, either. Maybe you could just look at the accident as teaching you an important lesson about how short life is. Maybe you could use it to give yourself the nerve to try something you never thought you could do. Go skydiving or climb something."

"I…I don't…" Bella was stuttering again, trying to keep her composure, but Angela seemed to sense that she was getting upset.

"It's okay, it's okay," she assured her friend. "I'm not trying to get you to change your life as we sit here. I'm just trying to tell you that you don't have to be a slave to all the bad things that happen in life. Maybe it's unnaturally idealistic on my part, but just know that when everything else slips out of the realm of your control, the one thing you can never lose is your ability to change your perspective on the situation, okay? And trust me," she said, shooting Bella a warm smile and patting the camera on her lap affectionately. "I know a thing or two about perspective."

Despite herself Bella laughed wetly, managing to keep her tears at bay. "That was an awful joke."

"I know," Angela laughed along with her. "But you can't blame me for trying. I didn't mean to get all serious on you…"

"S'okay." Bella wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve. "I started it. Sometimes it just all feels overwhelming, you know? Like I'll never be able to make sense of it all."

"Which is why you have friends," Angela replied smartly. "You know, for giant heart-to-hearts and whatnot. Besides, you got me my shot." Angela turned the camera around and showed Bella the picture she'd saved: an image of Bella from behind as she stared up at the statute of the virgin. Bella took the camera from her friend and inspected the images more closely. The dark shadows from the flickering candles made the entire scene feel dark and morose.

"I don't know, seems like kind of a sad picture," she murmured. Angela snatched the camera out of her hand and tucked it back into her bag.

"I'm not so sure," she told her with a knowing smile. "Seems kinda hopeful to me. I guess it just depends on your perspective."

* * *

Bella felt utterly exhausted as she climbed the stairs to her room that night. Too tired to go into detail when Charlie asked how her day had been.

"Fine," she'd murmured. "Tired. Lots of walking."

She shut her bedroom door behind her, and as if by some strange compulsion, for the first time since that night she'd come home, Bella jammed a nail file between the warped wooden planks at the end of her bed, and pried up the loose floorboard. Her box was still in there, completely undisturbed, as were its content. She pulled out the note from Jake first, the ghost of a smile drifting over her lips as she re-read the words he'd written there. The greasy paper felt fragile in her hands, as though it was something not intended for the permanence Bella attributed to it. The second item was much harder to remove.

And had a much greater permanence attached to it.

She refused to let her eyes focus on the faces staring up at her until she'd set the photo down on her desk. By the light of the moon coming in through her window, the glossy faces of Carlisle and Esme, and a hundred medical students, smiled up at her. It was haunting, all those people looking at something, someone she couldn't see. Bella swore they were looking directly at her, out through the Kodak paper.

She shivered.

The first time she'd laid eyes on this photo, it had given her hope. That last strand to cling to when it felt like the rope was about to slip from her grasp. In her mind it had been proof that she wasn't completely insane. Proof that the Cullens, that Edward, had once called this place home. Had once lived and breathed and existed in proximity to her. And it had given her hope that that might one day be true again. That they might come back and…and what?

There was no answer to that question.

Because as much as that photo had given Bella hope, it had also destroyed it. Carlisle and Esme in the California sunlight, devoid of the mystery and magic that had once, in Bella's mind, surrounded them. They were human, and their son was human. And Bella was human too. Human and fragile and breakable. Damaged.

She was not meant to be special. Edward was not meant to love her. And this place, this world she was supposed to survive in and call home, became nothing more than a prison of normalcy.

"No more," she said to nobody but herself.

With quivering fingers Bella gripped the sides of the photo. It had given her hope. It had taken her hope away.

It had become an anchor. And Bella was tired of the carrying the extra weight.

Before she could lose the nerve, she tore the glossy paper in half. Then did it again. And again. And as the last scrap drifted from between her limp fingers, Bella waited for that feeling of relief to wash over her.

She was making her decision. She was taking her destiny into her own hands.

She was going to reclaim her life.

So then why didn't she feel any better? Any freer? The weight of all the things she remembered was still heavy on her shoulders, like some kind of demonic yoke that she couldn't manage to shake. She'd expected it to be gone now.

Somewhere in the background, Bella was dimly aware that the phone was ringing, but she ignored it, waiting for her moment.

It didn't come.

Rather, that sick, twisted feeling began to gnaw at the hollow place in her stomach. Something between doubt, and dread. It was the feeling of being powerless. It was that feeling that something was going to happen, something big. Something beyond her control.

Instead of being free of her emotional demons, Bella was beginning to feel like she was saddled with another one.

"Bella?" A soft knock on her door drew Bella from her thoughts. She whirled around to find Charlie standing in her doorway, holding the portable phone out to her. "It's your mother."

Trying to compose herself, she took the phone with shaking hands. "Hi, Mom."

"BELLA!" Renee screamed excitedly through the speaker. "Phil's got a contract! We're MOVING to CHICAGO, sweetie!"

* * *

**A/N: First and foremost, I'm in no way, shape, or form qualified to make religious explanations or conclusions. Nothing in this chapter was meant to offend or prosthelytize. I'm not trying to push any agenda. I'm a pretty lapsed Catholic myself, so please forgive me if my Sunday School knowledge is a little rusty. If you have a problem with anything I've said in this chapter, please don't hesitate to PM me about it.**

That being said, sorry for the delay guys. No excuses this time, just writer's block. But I'm back in action. Long chapter this time, but lots of it is going to be relevant later on, even if it doesn't seem so at first glance. Oh, and exciting news! DoB is up for a **Bellie Award**! Thanks to everyone who nominated it. Voting is open till 2/28, so don't forget to go to www[dot]thecatt[dot]net/tw/Vote[dot]aspx and vote for it in the _Edward, Who_ category ;)

Also, St. James is a real Catholic church that has BEAUTIFUL architecture and was recently restored. However it's in Vancouver, WA, not Seattle. But it was so lovely in this picture I found, that I took some artistic liberties with its location: miniurl[dot]com/29307

**Shameless Plugging:** I recently got named one of A Different Forest's VIP authors. They're equal opportunity Twi-Fans, and I'm thrilled they decided to lend a podium to J/B fans like myself and Blueandblack. So swing on by and check it out at adifferentforest[dot]com. Sometimes (when I'm actually being a responsible writer) I even post excerpts and stuff in my cabin.

As always, thanks to Blue and Ceci for keeping me on track.


End file.
